Brightness in the Shades of Gray
by BookCaseGirl
Summary: Nate comforts Blair, but Chuck finds his way back to her. Sparks fly between the two, and a sad relationship ensues after several tragedies strike them. Will they make it through each pebble life has to throw?
1. Prologue

A/N: Alright... haven't written anything in a while... this is what I think could happen at the end of the season. This _may_ be_ possibly_ could be a multi-chapter fic. But, if it isn't, I guess it could make a good oneshot. So, I hope you guys enjoy, and please review!

P.S. Let me make myself clear on two points, I am not the owner of Gossip Girl, if I were Chuck and Blair would be married with 50 kids by now (He's Chuck Bass). The second point being.... I am a total Chair shipper. Any Nate/Blair in here that you read is solely to just keep the story-line that I want.

_Prologue_

Nate walked from the elevator and paused in the foyer. What exactly was he doing? He knew that Blair was grieving. That she and Chuck had been through one of their worst things yet. Was he hoping for a repeat of the 'Victrola Incident' (yes, it had been named among the playful four-some)? Or was he just here to comfort a friend in need? Yeah, that was it. He consoled himself, and smoothed his sweater over before striding into the dining room.

It was 9:15, and the Waldorf-Roses always began breakfast at 9:05 sharp. This was a new rule instated by Cyrus, Blair's new step-father. Blair had told him that Cyrus rambled on and on about this being the _only _time of day to get that proper nutrition that kept you going.

The sight that met him at the twelve-chair long table in the dining room shockingly didn't surprise Nate. There was only a middle-aged obviously in love couple seated at the table, and they were contentedly sipping coffee while trying to secretly canoodle. The teenage boy stood there, waiting for his presence to be recognized.

It didn't take long.

Eleanor's cheeks turned beet red as he leaned against the wall of the entrance to the room, and she managed to sputter out, "Nate, dear! Well, whatever are you doing here?"

"Good morning, Eleanor; Cyrus," he greeted each with a nod of his head. "I was wondering if I could find Blair anywhere? I have some notes to give her that she said she needed." He rose his hand to reveal the fake prop that he had brought. Who would have thought that Nate Archibald would need a fake reason to see Blair, ever?

"Oh, yes, my boy, absolutely! She's up in her room. We figured that we'd let her sleep late," the always bubbling Cyrus looked Nate in the eye, sending him a message as to exactly why they were allowing her to sleep late. Oh, Nate knew why.

He'd gotten the call last night, from an unprecedented, almost-in-tears Chuck Bass. He was drunkenly blubbering on the phone about how he was Chuck-freakin'-Bass and just because she was the most beautiful woman to ever walk the earth didn't mean that he couldn't and wouldn't destroy her again. Chuck let words burst out of his mouth that Nate never though he would hear. 'I love her, man! I really do!' He'd gulped when Chuck had uttered that phrase, and then heard a dialtone as the tortured, sad boy hung up.

Nate shook his head, getting back to the present, and smiled at the married couple as he left the room. He lightly jogged up the elegant winding staircase and met with the long hallway that led to Blair's room.

He heard light snoring as he made his way down the hall. It surprised him that Blair, being as lady-like as she was, would allow herself to snore. Then he remember what had gone down last night and realized she was probably pretty clogged up.

The door creaked as he opened it and his eyes fell upon a very deranged, troubled-looking Blair Waldorf, laying in her bed, curled into the fetal position. Her hair was frizzed out from her scalp and looked more oily than she would have ever let it get. Her nose was pink and her eyes were a little puffy, tiny crusties peeking out from the bottom. He could tell just from one glance at her face that she'd had a rough night.

But even when she looked at her worst, she was still beautiful to him. He knew that he was with Vanessa, but he couldn't help the little tug at his heart when he saw his former love. She looked so peaceful, and he didn't want to wake her.

Nate walked over to her side of the bed and stroked her hair very lightly, watching as her face scrunched up and relaxed. She leaned in to his touch ever-so-slightly and he felt his heart melt. Since when did his heart melt? It had never done that for Blair, not once. But, melt it did and he knelt by her bedside, stroking the side of her face. He watched her as she slid her head even closer to the edge of the bed, anything to get nearer to his warm hand.

A few moments later, her eyes blinked open and Nate's blue irises stared into her dark brown ones. He notices Blair's eyes were bloodshot and she looked so tired. If he hadn't have known better, he would have thought her sick. She smiled at him, or made her lips curve as best she could in her current state. He went back to stroking her face softly and she smiled a little more, this time making the smile seem genuine. He had been right to come here. She needed this.

He dared to venture into a conversation, though he feared the words that would come out of her mouth. "How are you?" he whispered.

**************

Blair's eyes shot open and met his in an instant. She didn't think he would have found out that fast. She decided to answer him, however, because he was here. That had to count for something, right? There was no way Chuck would have sent someone else to do his dirty work, that was simply not his way.

"I've been better, let's just leave it at that for now," she was surprised at how soft her voice was. It didn't crack as she had expected it would. The left side of her mouth curved upward in a half-smile as she heard breath leave Nate's lips in a gentle chuckle.

"I'm so sorry. I should've been here sooner, Blair," his voice was above a whisper now, though barely.

She shook her head at him. "I wouldn't have let you in, anyways. I needed to be alone. Deal with my... feelings," Blair's voice cracked delicately at the last word. She looked to the side of Nate so she could still the tears in her eyes. Last night was it. That had been the last night that she would cry over Chuck Bass.

Nate nodded his head, seemingly completely understanding of her words. It was refreshing. Not having a game involved. Everything with Nate was so pure, that is, when his drug-addict father and falling-apart-at-the-seams family wasn't involved. Everything was the way it should have been with him. Sweet and reverent, like a first boyfriend, first love rather, should be.

Blair let her lips form a large smile at him. She watched his eyes as they traveled down to gaze at her lips. She couldn't imagine what they looked like. So different from their usual ruby-ness. Probably shriveled and pale, like her heart now was. But Nate was here. He'd come to save her. He didn't expect a thing at all, just wanted to be there for her. It was nice. No sex involved in this comforting.

It was so nice, in fact, that she decided to reward him. She leaned in, her eyes locking with his bright, blue ones. They seemed like the sunlight to her insides. To her dismal thoughts and darkened heart. That was what Chuck had done to her. Made her dark and depressing. Nate could fix this, he would fix this. He had been and always would be her savior.

Her lips moved against his gently and she commanded the tears prickling the corners of her eyes to leave her. And they did. She felt her face flush at the way he still made her feel, after so many months apart.

Nate's hand cupped her face hesitantly, but then grasped it gently, as if he were afraid she would break if he didn't hold onto some part of her besides her lips. Blair felt her heart melt.

They were finally back. This was them. The them that the couple had been since prancing around in diapers and designer one-zies. They were back.

And Blair felt whole again, if only for a little while.

A/N: Alright... definitely a multi-chapter story. I'm going to start writing the next chapter after I post this, and rest assured, there will be CHAIR! Like I said, not a big Nate/Blair fan. So, I will probably put up the next chapter after some reviews. I'd appreciate five or so before I put it up, but, knowing myself, I probably won't be able to wait haha. So, please, please, please *gets down on hands and knees* review!


	2. Weasel

**A/N:** Well, I decided to post the first chapter. I'm hoping I'll get more reviews if I do. It has Chuck/Blair in it, so maybe people will be happier, haha. Here it is...

_Weasel_

**5 Months Later...**

"Blair, I'll be back as soon as I can, okay? I really am sorry. I'll make it up to you, I promise," Nate whispered the last part across the skin of her cheek.

She tried to suck her lips in in an attempt to keep the pout from appearing on her face. No such luck. Her fire engine red lip stuck out, protruding from her top lip in a childish expression.

Nate really had been great to her, and now she had to pout. She hoped he hadn't seen it, for she arranged her face in a happy expression as soon as she had pouted. She looked up at him and kissed him on the lips, letting him know it was okay. That everything was fine.

************

He smiled against her mouth as she kissed him, accepting his apology. He had to go visit his dad over in Scotland, where he was now living to escape going to prison. Something about an important topic of business that Nate would regret not hearing about. He'd reluctantly accepted.

He still wasn't sure that he could trust Blair to be alright by herself. Ever since that weekend he had spent in Florida with his mother 3 months ago, he wasn't sure at all.

She had broken down, completely and utterly. He couldn't let that happen to her again. But she seemed stronger now, more able to stand on her own two feet. And it was only for a few days... However, a few days was all it had taken last time. Nate's mind drifted back to when he had come home from Tallahassee.

_She was bent on the floor, her hair in disarray and her makeup smudged from her wiping her hands across her face. Blair looked up at him with her doe-like eyes of innocence. _

_Nate bent down on both knees immediately, taking her in his arms. The toilet hadn't been flushed yet, and he had to swallow to keep from his own bile rising up at the sight that was there. Chunks of food that belonged in his love's body, nourishing her._

_He shouldn't have ever left. There was something seriously wrong with him. Terribly and horribly wrong. He was a terrible boyfriend, a terrible person to do this to Blair._

_So Nate and Blair sat on the cold thousand-dollar tile of her bathroom in each other's embrace and all Nate could think was that he would never leave her again. Not if his life depended on it._

"Sweetie? Nate!" Blair's voice brought the teenage Archibald back to Earth. It had turned sharp with worry and very slight anger. He looked at her and smiled, the most real smile he could muster after reliving something he hadn't let himself think of since it had happened.

"Blair, are you sure this is okay?" Nate murmured gently, stroking her jawline.

"Yes. Absolutely. You need to do this. And I will... I will be fine. Just... Trust me on this, okay? I promise," she nodded her head for good measure and he heaved a small sigh.

"Alright. I'll see you Saturday then, sweetheart," Nate said as he leaned in and kissed her lips. As they kissed goodbye, he thought about how far away Saturday was. It was Tuesday. So much could change in four whole days. Her feelings could take a turn for the worst.

*********

Blair broke off the kiss when she felt tears start to intrude on her vision. She covered her nose, putting a light pressure on the bridge of it to stop them before they fell.

"Goodbye," she whispered as she watched him leave.

Many minutes later, Blair was overcome with an urge she had not felt for a long time. It was to do the unthinkable... she hadn't... she hadn't... done _that_ to herself in months. She wouldn't and couldn't do it now. She's promised him. She'd promised both of them, in fact.

Her mind drifted back to when Nate had found her in the bathroom when he came back from his Florida trip with his mother. He had simply assumed that she had missed him deeply and thought that she hated him. But he'd been wrong. And she hadn't had the heart to tell him.

This was what made her physically ill. That she'd lied. To the man she was supposed to have loved. Hell if she knew what love was anymore; nothing made enough sense. None of her feelings were clear any longer.

_She fell to the ground in her bathroom, inhaling sharply as her fragile knees clunked violently against the black and white tiles. It had only been a day and a half and she already missed him desperately. So desperately. She was worried. What if he had found someone else? A new love that he planned to marry? What if he had married her already? In haste because he thought there was no one better?_

_She bent her head down into the expensive porcelain bowl and spilled her contents from breakfast out. She faintly heard a door creaking, but she was too far-gone in her own pitiful dealings that she passed it off as her imagination and ignored it._

_Until she felt his presence. Smelled his cologne. Heard his breathing that only became erratic when she was close to him. In her peripheral vision, she could see him leaning against the door frame, his hands fisted at his sides, instead of leisurely stuffed in his pockets as they usually were. The sight of him, even in the corner of her eye, made her even more sick. This time without the help of her middle finger, she wretched into the toilet._

_She saw Chuck wince and breath deeply as he watched her. His eyes never left her as she continued until she felt so weak she was sure she would perish. He strode over to her, not one word being uttered from his mouth and stared from above._

"_I guess I really do make you sick," he thought aloud, with his smirk in place, and Blair rolled her eyes. She felt the tears already, and she was too weak to suppress them._

"_Why do you do this, Blair?" he whispered and she winced as her name left his lips. _

_  
Then she started to feel. Her heart was pounding in her ears as she sensed the electricity between their bodies with his closeness. Her throat was completely hollow, so hollow that she could feel the pounding all the way up into her mouth. It was dry. She couldn't have found her voice even if she had tried with all her might. She swallowed multiple times, trying to wet her pipes. _

_It killed her that he still affected her in this way. Absolutely killed her. It only meant one thing. The thing she was hoping she would never be faced with again. Feelings. And deep ones at that. _

_Blair finally allowed herself to look at him. She knew it would only hurt her more later, but she still spared him a look. _

_He'd cut his hair. His overall appearance was clean and put together. He looked so much like the old Chuck Bass that she had fallen in love with that it physically hurt her chest to look in his brown eyes, to glance down at his beautifully pink lips, which, in a rare occurrence, were not formed into a smirk._

_She felt a faint resemblance to a smile grace her lips, and then it widened when he knelt down, still a few feet from her. He was smart. Keeping his distance. When she did regain her strength, she would completely, whole-heartedly, kick his ass. Or maybe verbal abuse would do the trick._

"_Get out, you bastard," she bit out. The venom dripping from her lips surprised her. It appeared she was full of more strength than she had thought. She watched as he stayed completely still. It seemed he was prepared for this. Well, then, why hold back?_

_She raised her arms and shoved against his chest, roughly, savagely. It was in a way that Blair Waldorf would normally never attempt. However, it was as if he was stone. Or maybe she really was as weak as she'd thought, and her hands really did nothing to faze him. She raised her arms once again and flailed her arms at him violently, punching him hard in the chest, screaming, "Out! Get out! Get out!" to the rhythm of her hands._

_She felt a sob fall from her mouth. A pathetic, loud, wailing kind kind of sob. She fell into his chest. Blair was surprised to feel his arms, totally void of any sort of reluctance, wrap around her as she cried onto his shoulder. She heard his consoling words in the innermost depths of her brain. She felt them as far in her ear as they would go._

_********_

"_Shh... Blair, shh. Just calm down. Relax," Chuck was attempting to console her. He wasn't even sure if it was helping, given that her sobs were getting progressively louder. He just rubbed her back slowly, comfortingly. This wasn't his forte; if everything was how he wanted it, the proper way to give comfort would be sex. But, he did love her, though he wasn't sure he could ever say that out loud. _

_It made him cringe just thinking it. _

_Chuck felt her body rise and fall more slowly now. Shit. She was asleep. Then he saw her eyes as she lifted her head off of his shoulder. He surveyed her face. She still looked amazing, angelic, even. Her cheeks were flushed a pretty rose color, and her lips were a pale mauve. She hardly looked like she'd been crying at all. Her eyes weren't even really puffy._

_Then he did something he knew they would both regret later, but didn't really care. He knew that this wasn't what he had come here for. But, again, he didn't care. _

_He lifted his hands to touch each side of her face and slowly dragged her lips to meet his. He felt her arms slip around his waist and he brought one hand to the small of her back in response._

_Before he really knew or understood or _cared _what was happening, their feet were carrying them inside of her bedroom, and his shirt was off. He groaned as her hand slipped through his hair, playing with the ends that lay at the nape of his neck. They pressed closer together before she gasped and pulled away from him, putting a good three feet in between them both._

_Chuck stood dumbfounded. There was a first._

_********_

"_No! We can't!" Blair screeched. She didn't care whether Dorota or even the Pope heard right now. _"I_ can't, Chuck! I love Nate, not you! Not anymore..." she added softly, her lips puffing slightly as she stared at the floor._

"_Blair..." Chuck whispered, walking slowly over to her. She walked backwards, away from him, in response. It was for her own good. She needed control. She needed to exercise restraint, no matter what it took._

_She was now back against the wall and couldn't go any further distance away from him. She was trapped. It felt as if she were in a horror movie, where the rapist was just about to make her his next victim. Except it wasn't exactly horror beating through her veins, and she was pretty sure that whatever she and Chuck were about to do, it wouldn't even remotely resemble rape._

_She felt her hand leave her side as he took it from her and kissed the very center of the top of it. An electric shock ran through her body, making her knees go limp and her head become fuzzy. She couldn't control herself anymore. Or if she could, she just didn't want to. She couldn't even remember the name of the boy who had left not even two hours ago, much less why she loved him._

"_See? You want it too," she felt Chuck's hot, tantalizing breath at the nape of her neck as he leaned in and whispered to her. "I can hear your heart beating. I can see it in your eyes, Blair." He pressed a kiss to the spot where her neck melded into her shoulder and she closed her eyes. _

_She felt herself go weak against the morals her conscience was screaming at her. She let herself get carried away as she grabbed two tufts of his hair and pulled his head to hers. _

_Before she knew it, she was before him, half-naked, and he was kissing her neck, making her moan as quietly as possible. She tore his shirt open, surprised when none of the buttons flew off. He moved his arms to help her take it off of him and it fell to the floor with her clothing._

_Everything happened so fast, and before she knew it, they were laying in the bed, both breathing heavily, laying on their backs. She turned to look at Chuck who was looking at the ceiling with the strangest of expressions gracing his features. _

_She watched as he turned to her and she flipped back around so he could put his arm around her. She grabbed his fore-arm and pulled it tighter against her. It seemed that no matter how many blankets were on the bed, she was still cold, and his arm made her warmer. Made her feel happier. Safe._

_Blair heard Chuck's breathing go soft and shallow as he fell asleep. When she felt his light stubble scratch her cheek, she was brought back to reality. She realized what she had done._

_  
And that was when it started. Her tears flowed. He'd manage to maneuver his way back into her life, her body. The weasel, she thought bitterly, with no humor whatsoever._

She had awoke the next morning only to find Chuck gone, no note this time, though.

That was when Blair had gone into the bathroom. And a little while later Nate had come home, early, in fact. And he'd found her. She vowed for that to never happen again. So she wouldn't do that now. No matter how sick some stupid memory made her.

Her judgment still clouded from her flashback, she didn't even really realize when she picked up her phone. Or much less when she was scrolling through her contacts and landed on a name she'd meant to delete. She stood up and pressed the green call button.

"Chuck?"

A/N: Review! Please!


	3. ChChChChanges

**A/N:** I just wanted to take this opportunity to thank everyone for the wonderful reviews! They were great and thank you so much! All reviews help me to grow as a writer, so I would really love it if when you read, you review as well. That is if you have the time. I know there's a saying "If you can't say anything nice, then don't say anything at all," but that doesn't apply here! I accept all criticism dutifully! Thanks again for the feedback!

Also... big thanks goes out to **sunday nights** for the spectacular beta! This chapter had a few flukes, and she made it so much better! The changes helped a lot!

_Ch-Ch-Ch-Changes_

"Yeah? Who the hell is this?" A raspy voice spat back through the receiver and Blair cringed. High. He was high. On what, she couldn't be sure of, but she sure didn't want to guess. With that, Blair did the only thing that she felt comfortable doing; It was a reflex.

She hung up her phone, feeling a tear slip down her face as she did so.

Blair felt vibrations as her phone signaled another call. She pulled it out and read the name.

_Chuck Bass._

She threw the phone against the wall of her bathroom and walked out, heels clinking like a steady drumbeat. Blair fixed a scowl on her face. There was only one thing to cure this. A trip, of course. A trip to Victrola.

Many minutes later, she found herself in the club, sitting in the same sofa that had served as a starting gun for her v-card to be played. She watched the women on-stage. Beautiful, all of them. Absolutely beautiful. She pondered for a moment, and then figured it was best to act on impulse. She needed it. If anything, now more than ever.

Blair stood up, setting down her sentimental glass of champagne on the glass table, which smelled of Windex from excessive cleaning (coke, hash, bodily fluids, you name it, it had to be cleaned off of the table). She briskly walked over to the stairs of the stage. She watched as everyone else became enraptured with her appearance, déjà vu and euphoria overcoming her.

She smiled broadly as she started to unzip the side of her simple gray Dior skirt. The girl took a whiff of the perfume on the garment, before she discarded her shirt at the same time. There she stood, black lacy bra and panties, and suddenly she felt vulnerability coming through the edges of her being. She got a strong sense that someone, someone who was important and high up in her world, was watching her.

Blair's eyes darted from side to side and and stared ahead at the couch. _Surely, it was a ghost_, she tried to re-assure herself. She was imagining things, putting images from that evening into her mind to make the experience all that more familiar and exhilarating. She looked away and then back, but he was still there. She realized then that it was him. In the flesh.

He was wearing a polka-dotted tie and a black shirt, flashes of green, red and purple landing on him in time with the pulsing beats.

The intensity of his gaze scared her. More than any of his looks had in the past. She was almost positive that the look he now wore was one that he had never allowed he to see. It was of pure concentration. Nothing hiding behind his eyes. There was no hidden mischief. He had no lurking secrets or tricks rolled up his sleeve. His smirk was not in place, and he looked so completely un-Chuck-like that it was almost mirror shattering.

Blair, like a deer caught in headlights, grabbed her items of clothing and ran into the ladies room. She changed quickly and then went to the mirror that was placed crookedly on the wall. She didn't even want to know why. She fixed her slightly mussed hair and opened the door.

What met her eyes scared the shit out of her, to put it completely bluntly. She literally jumped back and nearly fell to the cold stone floor. She glanced down at her shoes before her eyes came up to meet his.

Then she bolted.

When she was finally outside, she allowed oxygen into her body. She felt a rush of cold air fill her lungs and took a few more breaths, the next ones coming more short than before. Her body heated up quickly and she started to walk.

It had been stupid of her to wait to catch her breath. She should have known better. She was definitely smarter than her decisions let on, but tonight was proving that she was the complete opposite of brainy. She picked up her pace considerably, almost breaking into a run.

Then he caught up with her, roughly grabbing her arm. She turned around and made to yank her arm away, but he held it tightly. She noticed his pupils were dilated. She could even tell in the darkest, blackest night. She yanked her arm yet again and this time his grip loosened and her arm was pulled from his grip.

Blair turned to leave, but Chuck stopped her yet again. It occurred to her that no words had even been exchanged. This was the first time they'd seen each other in five months, for Chuck had been pointedly ignoring Blair, who came in a package deal with Nate, so Nate too. All that had been said was a 'Chuck' and a rude, snide, hello, if you could even call it that.

She stood there, staring at him, before he leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers.

It wasn't the same.

It was terrible.

Horrible.

He.

Wasn't.

Her.

_Chuck!_

He was like a rapist, a sexual offender. It scared her, the way his mouth hungrily devoured hers. Normally, this would have excited her, but as his lips moved against hers so roughly and jaggedly, and he gripped her jawline so tightly she thought it would break, she was anything but excited.

She made all kinds of alerting noises. Noises that could have awakened him if he weren't so far gone. Finally, she screamed as loud as she could right into his ear as he slammed his lips onto her throat menacingly.

"Oh, so you like it rough, huh baby?" Chuck growled animalistically into her collarbone as his torturous lips delved deeper down.

"Chuck, stop! Please! Please, Chuck," Blair was near tears now. He was frightening her. The man he had become.... to think that she had inspired this change. It was like she was just another call-girl to him now. She wasn't his special Blair Waldorf. Was no longer his precious jewel to be shown off. She was an object to be fucked, that was all.

He wouldn't listen.

"I love to hear you beg for me," he whispered. However, this time, his whisper was not sexy and suave, with the discreet scent of wanting on his breath.

Now, the smell of wanting was replaced by the strong scent of condom plastic and scotch, as well as cigarettes and some sort of drug she didn't recognize as being on him before. His whisper was predator-like. He was not listening to her and he- she curled her hand into a fist, ready to take drastic measures to defend herself as his hand crumpled her skirt, fingering her underwear through the material.

She abruptly yanked his head away from where it was nearing her newly exposed breasts and pulled his hair. She watched him wince and his eyes teared slightly as she pulled out a small tuft of his hair. He glared at her through glassy eyes.

"This wasn't what you wanted? A nice little discreet no-one-ever-has-to-know screw? That's what everyone wants. I'm surprised you're different," he said and spit on her face.

Blair chose this moment to change her approach and attitude. She slowly wiped his saliva off her cheek and onto the back of her skirt. She looked him in the eyes, as best she could, and stared him down. She noticed his demeanor falter a small bit, slackening.

"Chuck Bass, give me your damn hand. We're going to the Palace to get your ass back in gear and cleaned up," Blair returned his spit, momentarily disgusted by herself.

Then again, everything was different with Chuck.

So, Blair Waldorf dragged her former or maybe not so former flame, Chuck Bass, back to a taxi.

They were holding hands.

Oh, how things had changed.

**A/N:** Ok.... big 360 for Chuck... I know. But the point was to show that the five months put a big strain on him... I think the chapter was ok. It wasn't all written at the same time. I stopped and started a lot. In the next chapter, there will be more Chuck's point of view, do not worry! And also, not to worry, Chuck won't be raping Blair anytime soon... or hurting her, either. This was it. Reviews, please!


	4. Throbbing

**A/N: **Ok... consider this a "Happy Weekend" gift to you all.... I hope you enjoy! Thank you for all the wonderful reviews! I really appreciate the feedback, and I hope those who have reviewed will continue to do so with coming chapters.

Thanks to my beta [again] for this chapter, **sunday nights**. If anyone else would like to beta for the next chapter, or any others, PM me.

P.S.: I do not, under any circumstances, own Gossip Girl. Its sad, I know, but maybe someday....

_Throbbing_

He was in a complete haze as she dragged him back to the limo. Chuck felt like an absolute ass, but on the other hand, he wished everything would have just gone through back there. Though that made him more of an ass, he didn't really care. He was severely inebriated, how could he?

When they were safely inside the yellow taxi cab, Chuck's eyes swam and finally landed on their still intertwined hands. He smirked drunkenly, though alcohol had not been the reason for his current state. He felt an incessant pound throughout his entire skull and used the hand not held by Blair's to massage it.

He felt her eyes on his face, but he ignored her. He would avoid words for as long as possible; they would only cause pain. Both internally and externally. He wasn't ready for that when he was high on so many drugs he couldn't even begin to guess the amount.

All he knew was that his dealer had upped the amount on something and added some other things. He had simply handed the scruffy man his card to swipe, not giving him the respect of listening to the words he spewed out of his dirty pie-hole.

Chuck closed his eyes then, letting the world slip away. He shuddered at what happened next.

So close.

"So, are you planning on just totally zonking out for the night, or are you actually going to form coherent sentences, Bass?" Blair snapped at him.

He kept his eyes closed. It was all a dream. He would wake up soon, he knew it. She wasn't talking. He was just imagining things. That wasn't her; it wasn't the real Blair Waldorf. It was a Blair he had conjured up in his dreams.

But then his hair was pulled. And hard, at that.

Chuck Bass's eyes snapped open abruptly and he scowled. Or tried to. It was hard to do anything but drool when he was this souped up. However, just as soon as his eyes had opened, they fell closed again. It felt like he had no control over his motions, or emotions for that matter.

It was like an out of body experience, more than anything else. As if he were watching a movie of this in some screening room far, far away. Perhaps he just wasn't willing to come to terms with the fact that what he had done was very real. That it was very hurtful. Possibly very criminal and wrong.

Yeah, that was it, his damaged self reasoned.

Then he slipped into a dark oblivion, planning to never rise from it again.

***********

Blair sighed. He was gone, he'd fallen asleep. She was useless to him now. It had been her sincerest hope that he wasn't that bad. That he had just seemed worse than he was. But, as with everything, she had expected too much of the high and mighty Chuck Bass. He wasn't as good as she had always thought.

He was truly a weakling.

She withdrew her hand from his. After all, it wasn't like he could feel it. It was doubtful that he would ever feel again. Who knew what had been absorbed into his bloodstream? Maybe he would never be the same again. There could possibly always be a part of him that remained in this state. It could have altered his brain and his being permanently.

She felt salt water burn her blushed cheek and angrily swiped her hand across it. Blair glanced over at his sleeping form. His mouth was slightly ajar, and there was a small line of spit dripping from the corner. She took a tissue from her Coach bag and dabbed at it lightly, noticing that the tears were more prominent now.

Blair scooted over from the boy's drained, despondent form and stared out the window. She let the city overtake her. If she concentrated, she could hear the beats from nearby clubs and the honking of horns, even through rolled up windows. Her eyes swept around the streets and took in all the sparkling lights, the beautiful colors.

Before she knew it, the car has lurched forward. She hadn't realized she had fallen asleep, but, based on the disorientation she felt, she had. Or she'd been drugged and date-raped. The first seemed undeniably more likely. Her eyes adjusted to the scene in the car and she threw a few twenty's at the driver without a word.

Chuck was still completely dead. He looked slightly more like himself now, though. She suspected he was dreaming, for he had this dorky, yet adorable make-her-melt, smile on his face. That could only mean one thing. It meant she was the center of his dreams, as she always seemed to be.

Blair couldn't stop the smile that spread meekly across her lips and she reluctantly turned it into a smirk, before losing any sign of happiness altogether. She shifted Chuck's weight onto her shoulder and stumbled into the middle of the road as the support of the taxi was lost. Cars honked, and she instinctively and unthinkingly, raised her middle finger violently.

He had such dead weight. Since when had he become so full of muscle... of bulk? It was concerning her. What had he been doing that had caused him to gain so much positive weight? It hurt Blair to think of the possibilities, therefore, she put it out of her mind momentarily.

After many minutes of struggling, and with the help of either a very kind doorman or a slightly drunk bar patron, she and her young love had made it up to 1812. Blair pinned him against the wall and patted down his jacket, feeling for any sort of cardboard-type thing. She felt the small key and drew it out of the inside pocket of his jacket, her hand brushing against his chest. She earned a weak, slumbering groan from Chuck in response.

**********

_She was so radiant as she stepped into the room. Her face positively glowed with radiance, that he was sure of. Her eyes bright, head held high, she stalked proudly over to him and he could feel his knees weaken at the sight of her._

_She was his siren. She sang for him, whether is be a lover's song or a lover's poem. Her voice was always so melodic to him. Her lips moved hypnotically when she spoke. The way her hips swayed when she walked were enough to make his heart tear a hole in itself. And the way her eyes always met his first when she walked into a room made his throat close, air travel nearly impossible._

_The fluttering started in his stomach. Lately, the butterflies had actually hurt him. Given him a physical stomach ache. They were no longer pleasant creatures, giving him headaches and making him dizzy with discomfort. _

_Chuck swayed a bit, trying to keep the heat rising in his body at bay; trying to stop the fluttering before it went too far; he tried to make his knees strong. None of it worked, though. Hard as he tried, nothing helped. _

_  
The effect she had on him wouldn't change. He was even starting to develop a cheesy smile to replace his ever-present smirk. It was a smile only given for Blair Waldorf. It was rarely allowed, for he was always mercilessly taunted. After all, she knew him better than anyone else; and he her._

_Finally, oh so sweetly, finally. Conversation ensued among them._

_'Bass,' Her voice made him mentally swoon. He was worse than those love-sick fourteen-year-olds in movies. He was like one of those puppies you saw at the pound; happy and hopeful._

_'Waldorf.' Chuck was surprised when his gasp of a response sounded like a devilishly sexy whisper. This could and probably would work in his favor. Yes. Most definitely, it would._

_'Wanna dance, old friend?' he took another chance._

_She smiled at him. It was her big, toothy smile. The one that spread from ear to ear and met her eyes. Not very many got the real Waldorf smile. He always did, and it made him happy to know this fact. He relished it daily._

_'Well, I suppose since my mother stepped out...' before she could finish her sardonic and sarcastic response, his arms were around her. Then they were swaying peacefully, staring into each other's eyes._

_Oh yes, she would be the cause of his demise. That was for certain._

**********

Blair grimaced as she heard her name being whispered lovingly. She watched Chuck's lips move as he mouthed some other unintelligible things; this caused her to sigh. It looked like she was not going to get her answers tonight.

And so, with that thought, she set him down gently on his mussed bed. She looked around the room. The maid service obviously hadn't stopped in yet. There were needles littered on his nightstand, small baggies with tiny traces of powder left in them, and a three-quarters empty scotch bottle that sat next to them. She looked to the floor, only to find a large bloodstain and some other sort of spot.

As Blair rounded up the blankets to wrap around Chuck's sleeping form, she caught a peek under the bed. It was not a pretty sight. Under the mattress stuck out condom wrappers and even more baggies with different colored powder. She gasped at the sight and scowled at the door, making a mental note to give the cleaning service a good talking to.

It wasn't long before she realized, as she was sitting in the stiff armchair, that she hadn't really thought of how she felt about herself for quite a while. She had numbed after the ordeal in the smoky alley. Now, though, Blair felt. And as she looked at a now eighteen-year-old Chuck Bass laying on the bed unconscious, she felt pain.

Blair's heart throbbed. Her whole body throbbed. Her legs, her arms, her back, her chest, everything had a rhythmic beat pulsing through it. It was a throbbing that circulated inside and outside of her body. She could feel it in her lungs, as well as in her feet. Everything ached.

Everything was throbbing.

**********

Chuck awoke at a time that seemed like centuries later. All he felt was the same consistent pain as before. It was terrible; excruciating. The pain was a thousand times worse than it had been hours before. It was a throbbing that wouldn't go away.

And after the dreams he had, the nagging agony was now pulling at the edges of his heart. He actually physically felt his heart being torn. It was so strange; it hurt so badly.

Then there was the throbbing in his head. It was so persistent, never failing to put him through the most unimaginable pain. It echoed in every little crack and crevice of his skull, projecting out into depths he never even knew he had.

He tried to move, but found that this did not a thing to help. All it did was make the throbbing spread. This time it went to his knees, he even felt it in the tips of his toes. He felt it on his fingers nails. Inside his burning, itchy throat.

The pain. He thought of death. Surely, that would be less painful than this. Just taking a knife to his throat, a gun to his head. That, anything in fact, would be better than the current things he was experiencing.

Chuck felt a drape close in over his consciousness, throbbing continually spreading everywhere. It went to the backs of his eyes, making his sleep fitful. It went to his stomach, which was now pounding roughly to the same beat as everything else. The agonizing sound resonated in the deepest parts of his inner ear canal, and diffused farther into his brain.

It throbbed. He didn't think the throbbing would ever stop.

**A/N:** Again, please review! I do cute little dances and scream for joy, so thats great.


	5. Waiting

**A/N: **Just in case you guys didn't already know, I adore you and your wonderful reviews! They are what keep me going into the long hours of the night to finish my chapters... Without you, I wouldn't be the author I am. Enough of the cheesiness now, here's the next chapter!

P.S.: I do not own Gossip Girl. My name is not Stephanie Savage or Josh Schwartz, though I wish I could change it to either legally. ;)

**Also...** Thanks AGAIN to my spectacularly wonderfully great beta, **sunday nights.** You rock and help this story so much!

_Waiting_

Chuck woke up again; this time there was a bright light coming in through the window. He cursed mother nature and the hell she gave him. The only woman he had never slept with, and he was certainly paying for it.

He looked around at his surroundings. Everything was clean. Spotless, in fact. It was completely devoid of any sign that a womanizing, drug-taking, alcoholic eighteen-year-old lived there. The condom wrappers were in a small trash bag at the foot of his bed, the scotch bottle had been poured down the sink and was now in a separate bag right next to the condoms, and the little baggies of the assortment of drugs were all laying in a pile. He wondered momentarily why _she_ hadn't thrown them out along with all of his other misdemeanors.

He had no concept of the time. For all he knew, it had been hours since the last time he had awakened. It also could have been months. She might have left him. He prepared himself for that. Perhaps he had gone into a withdrawal-induced coma and hadn't been awake for weeks on end. Maybe she had tired of his lifeless body.

Then he noticed was the small, frail body in his notoriously uncomfortable chair. She was wrapped in a wool blanket, no doubt taken from the deepest depths of his closet, and had puffed lips as her lips let out slow breaths. She was deep into sleep, that was his definite conclusion.

The next thing Chuck became aware of was that he was nearly naked. The last time he had woken up, he had still be fully clothed, save for socks and shoes. Now, however, he adorned merely the briefs he had been wearing and a thin white undershirt. He strained to remember what had happened. Had Blair, he winced as he even thought her name, attempted a seduction?

It was highly unlikely.

She had been pissed. Royally pissed at that.

He finally rose from his bed, sauntering with a jaunty step over to the curtains. It was oddly liberating to wear underwear and not have just had sex. He drew the curtains closed and let his eyes fall and rest upon Blair. This time, he did not wince as he simply thought her name. He even, dare he say it, managed the smallest of small smiles.

The young man reached down and brushed a stray curl out of her face, letting his fingers linger on the soft skin of her cheek. This was it, he had to know. It was the closest he would get to touching her intimately for a long while.

He would go back to bed now. Later, it would be time for a talk. Chuck would need as much rest, stamina, and energy as he could muster.

**********

Blair awakened at the feeling of darkness in the room. She looked around her and noticed that it was, in fact, dark. Deducing like a true detective, she turned to the curtains.

He'd been up. That much she had figured out. He had risen from his bed, which meant he had found out what she had done. All that she had done. Unless he hadn't been in the bathroom, that was...

Blair thought back to earlier, to the things that had happened. If he had known of anything, he would have been gone by now. Or if he was all-knowing as he claimed, he must also be all-accepting. She knew the real Chuck wouldn't want to deal with what had gone on.

_She brushed his hair back as she lifted the expensive Calvin Klein shirt over his head. His head was felt against her shoulder as it fell forward. It was obvious that he was slowly slipping away._

_She heard a sniff from his nose and felt the sticky substance of snot on her collarbone, as well as a few other burning drops. Blair heard Chuck heave slightly. He must have thought she was deaf, for he sure wasn't holding back one bit. _

"_Blair," he rasped out. She shushed him but he just continued. "Bl-" but he cut himself off with a fierce fit of coughing. The withdrawal must have been kicking in now. His pain was apparent and she felt her heart pang with true compassion. _

"_Shh.... Chuck, just shh...." Blair said as she rubbed his back. She heaved a loud sigh as she practically tasted the rancid smell of vomit that surrounded her._

"_You need your clothes changed. Right now," Blair said softly, trying hard to hold her breath. _

_His only response was another sniffle, followed by a deep cough that sounded like it was scraping against his lungs. Blair stumbled a little as he lost control of the balance of his weight and tumbled onto her. She quickly recovered and supported him. He needed her; physically and emotionally. She just needed to keep reminding herself of this._

_Then, as if by a sudden adrenaline rush, he started tearing through the room. He found the scotch bottle she had attempted to hide and tore open the top, taking a large swig. He stumbled forward onto his nightstand and raised a needle to his wrist. Chuck was just about to push the sharp object into his smooth, pale skin when she snapped._

"_Chuck, dammit! Get a hold of yourself before _I _kill you!" Blair screamed at him. He turned to her, scotch in hand and rasped again as he attempted to form a sentence. The glass bottle fell from his hand as another bout of tears fell from his bloodshot eyes. He let the needle fall with it, and she made a mental note to have a maid get her a magnet later._

_She walked over to him, slowly and surely. He stayed put, swaying violently and she quickened her pace, afraid that he would soon leave her. Blair wrapped her arms around the frail shell of a man in front of her. She tried her best to console; to give reassurances. But she couldn't keep her own feelings, her own views, and her own life from slipping into the mix._

"_Oh, please, Chuck. You have to be strong. For everyone that loves you. Nate, Lily, Erik..." she trailed off and listened as his breathing stopped. He was scared, that was why his breath was being trapped in his lungs. He didn't want to risk not hearing her words. She knew him oh so well._

"_Hell, _me._ I need you. Without you, I don't make sense, Chuck," she sobbed into his shoulder. "Your father wouldn't have wanted this..." she lost her voice again, her breathing becoming short and ragged as she held back sobs of defeat and sadness. "Don't do this to me, please. I don't want to you leave me, ever."_

_That was when her love found his voice. She hated calling him this, especially when Nate was far from out of the picture. Chuck had no broken tone, he had nothing but amorous lighting to his words. It was as if he were being possessed by an angel, for this Chuck, the one who was missing his beloved life fuelers, couldn't possibly speak the words he was speaking._

"_I would never leave you Blair... I swear..." he trailed off. His voice broke in strange places as he spoke again. "I never want to leave you again. I want you to stay with me."_

_Her eyes widened and she realized what this conversation was becoming. Then she remembered her words from earlier._

"_Let's get you cleaned up," she whispered, running her hand along his cheek affectionately. She couldn't handle his sweet, loving words right now. She was too frightened that anything she said would be thrown back in her face or thwarted at a later time. She wasn't ready to handle that. Blair was too afraid of him; she was too afraid of his schizophrenic qualities._

"_Alright," he murmured back into her ear. He started to unbutton his shirt and she finished for him as his numb fingers stumbled on the buttons. _

_Blair moved to his pants and heard his sharp intake of breath as she did so. She felt him under there, but chose to act as if she were dumb and didn't. The khakis slipped down his thinning thighs and he was left in only his briefs and a thin, cottony t-shirt. She moved his clothes to a somewhat neat pile by his dresser and then went back to the bathroom to retrieve the soapy washcloth she had had soaking for about half an hour._

_She brought it under his shirt to lather his chest and then down as far as she would allow herself to go without feeling like she would be hurting herself in the end. Blair brought the cloth down over his arms and under them, circling it around a few extra times in areas of desperate need. When he was slightly wet and she felt he smelled satisfactory, she went to get a towel._

_Slowly, she dabbed at the damp parts of Chuck and still, he just stood there. He looked almost stupefied, save for the slightest of glints in his eyes._

"_Thank you, my love," Chuck whispered as she lay him down onto his bed. His eyes were already drifting shut and she made a concrete decision to not allow his words to sink in. But, as she heard his snores of slumber, sink they did. _

_She felt a few tears slip down on her face as she began to set to work on the tedious job of cleaning Chuck Bass's bedroom._

**********

The next time he focused on his surroundings, it was because of her movements. He was able to tell easily that she was attempting a stealthy walk about the room, trying to keep her movements angelic. But, Chuck had already been slightly awake before she had even risen.

He decided to remain silent for a little while. His eyes were kept closed as he pictured her body flitting effortlessly about the room. The pictures he conjured up threatened to make a smile spread on his face, but he kept it set in a frown. He absolutely could not risk being caught.

That was when Chuck Bass heard a sob. It was the quietest he had heard come from her in all the time they'd known one another. But, because of the fact that they _had_ known each other for so long, he was able to tell immediately what the sound escaping from her lips was. His eyes shot open, the movement instinctive and without permission from his brain.

"Blair," he spoke with such clarity that it caused him to wonder if it really had been that long since he had been awake. Chuck sat up abruptly in the bed, looking her straight in the eye. He noticed the weariness deep in her dark, chocolate-y irises. He saw the uncertainty; he absorbed the fright. All these emotions that he had never thought it was possible for _his_ Blair to feel at once. At least, not with him in the room.

**********

"Chuck," she shot back in a mimic of his dismally tired tone. She watched him with a wary, careful expression as he walked over to where she was sitting. He knelt down before her and looked into her eyes.

It really surprised her how quickly he had been able to go without his life-sustaining drugs and alcohol. It had only been three days. Yet, his eyes were not clouded with want for the killers. They were completely clear and showed no emotion other than.... no, not love. Not possibly love.

He grabbed her hand and she yanked it away. She forced herself to think of Nate. She couldn't get involved with Chuck, even in the smallest amount, until Nate was totally out of the picture.

He had come back yesterday. The story she'd given him was a complete load of bull, but luckily the boy was stupid enough to buy it. Bless the Archibald brains. She was at her grandmother's house; the old lady had fallen ill after eating crackers containing peanut butter. Blair would be visiting until she felt Helen was better, or at least satisfactory.

The look Chuck gave her would make even the most depressed person in the world more sad. It was pitiful and made her want to embrace him warmly. But, there was Nate. He was her boyfriend, possibly almost fiancé. He mattered. She could befriend Chuck, but nothing more. They couldn't touch intimately; it would just make her decision-making harder and cloud her judgment even further.

"Blair, please. I just want to hold you... I want..." He trailed off and grabbed her hand. This time she allowed it. "You," he finished. "Every part of you." His whisper sent chills all the way down to her tail bone and she visibly shivered. She grimaced when she saw the shadow of a smirk on his slightly dry lips.

"No. No, no, no," Blair said. Yet, she still wasn't letting go. "No!" She screamed the last part and then finally broke away, realizing what, exactly, she was doing.

It angered her. It made her so damn angry to know that he could just persuade her so easily. If this continued, they _wouldn't_ be able to keep a friendship. Neither of them had the greatest self-control and she wouldn't be able to stay above the water long enough if something happened again. She would sink under and drown.

His following movement was fast and sly. The real Chuck Bass was back, that was for sure. Blair had not one moment of time to deflect his maneuvers. She had been turned around one second, and the next, he had flipped her and turned her to him.

The way his lips were brushing hers was so beautiful. It was so gentle and loving. It made her think of how Chuck's kisses used to be: urgent and wanting. Now, it seemed, he was okay with taking his time. He made her bottom lip tingle as his tongue flew across it, oh so slowly. She held her breath to keep from moaning, afraid he would know of his affects on her. Her knees went completely limp as his tongue inched into her mouth and gently swept across hers.

He caught her then, and she could feel the smirk stronger now against her lips.

Finally, she exercised self restraint and control and pushed his chest away. She pushed him hard, too. So hard, that he nearly fell to the floor. Apparently, she had had nearly the same affect on him as he had her.

"Damn you, Chuck!" Blair whisper-yelled. The last thing she needed was an angry neighbor decided to remind them of their first amendment rights.

"Actually, fuck me, Blair. Please..." he whispered directly into the hollow of her neck and she stiffened.

She turned her head away from him and looked him in the eyes. "No, Chuck, no." Her voice was stern. In fact, it surprised her how hard it was. How cold. How very matter-of-factly she stated the words, despite her internal conflict.

"Alright, then. Tell me- No, look me in the eyes and tell me, that you don't feel the same," he gestured down to his lower half and then pressed his hand to his heart. Then he grabbed her hand and pressed it to the same spot. She felt his heart beating rapidly and inhaled sharply.

"Ch-" Blair cut herself off, taking in a deep, calming breath and swallowing after she sighed.

"Look, I-"

"Just do what I said, Blair," Chuck whispered just below her earlobe as he kissed it with tantalizing sexiness.

She walked away from him and began to pace. Finally, after about thirty seconds, she stopped. She stared at him for a moment. He looked disheveled and she realized he was only in his boxers. For some odd reason, she hadn't noticed before. His bare chest was heaving, and the hairs were standing up slightly from the bath he had taken earlier.

Finally, she let it out. "Chuck Bass, I do not feel the same." Blair said with finality. She felt her heart pound and tears burn the very back of her retinas as she lied to him. It physically pained her to lie to him. "I love Nate. It's too late for us."

"Then let me remind you of something you said to me not long ago, Waldorf," he spat angrily. "Get out." The words had come out with such a bite and so much force that she physically stumbled backwards. She continued to fall over her feet towards the door; his vulture eyes were glaring at her with a fierceness she would never wish on her worst enemy.

"Chuck, just please remember, I was always waiting for you. I felt that way for a long while, I really did. I just couldn't let myself go through the pain of the long wait again. It takes too much of a toll on me," her words were nearly inaudible as she gasped out a few sobs. In fact, she could hardly hear the words herself.

His last words rang in her ears the entire car ride home. "And just please remember, _Blair_, that I would have been waiting for you too, if you'd given me more time. Not even a day, I guarantee you, I would have still been waiting. I'm not waiting anymore."

Chuck had spoken with such certainty.

_I'm not waiting anymore, I'm not waiting anymore. I'm not waiting _anymore. _I'm _not _waiting anymore. _I'm. Not. Waiting. Any. More.

She felt her heart break in two and sobs racked her body completely. No more...

**A/N: **Alright... just a quick note here... that reference to "Grandma" eating PB was supposed to be, like, a reference to the salmonella stuff... just thought I'd let people know in case they weren't already aware.

Please review, though I know you will! They thrill me and make my day even better :)

Also... I know I've said it before... if anyone else would like to beta, not that I don't L-O-V-E your beta-ing sunday nights, just let me know. I'd be happy to oblige :)


	6. Broken

**A/N:** Okay... so three reviews last chapter?? Was it that terrible? I'd really love it if when you read this story, you would review if you have time! It helps me to know what people like and don't like in the story. So, thanks to those who did review, and this is dedicated to you! Also, I'm doing something a little different this chapter. I put in some lyrics for a song, and I'm kind of going to put the chapter to the same mood as the song. So... here goes my first try with that!

Also... thanks to my "attempted" beta-er, Michelle. I really, really, really appreciate all your hard work!

P.S.: Gossip Girl. Not mine. Deal with it. :P

_Broken_

_**It seems like yesterday that my world fell from the sky  
It seems like yesterday I didn't know how hard I could cry  
It feels like tomorrow I may not get by  
But I will try, I will try  
Wipe the tears from my eyes**_

**_I'm beautifully broken  
And I don't mind if you know it  
I'm beautifully broken  
And I don't care if I show it_**

**_Everyday is a new day  
I'm reminded of my past  
Everytime there's another storm  
I know that it won't last  
Every moment I'm filled with hope 'cause I get another chance  
But I will try  
I will try  
Got nothing  
Left to hide_**

**_I'm beautifully broken  
And I don't mind if you know it  
I'm beautifully broken  
And I don't care if I show it_**

**_Without the highs and the lows  
Where would we go  
Where would we go_**

**_I'm beautifully broken  
And I don't mind if you know it  
I'm beautifully broken  
And I don't care if I show it_**

_**--Ashlee Simpson, Beautifully Broken**_

**********

Nate walked into their bedroom and, for the fifth day in a row, saw his beautiful girlfriend deep under the quilted duvet of their bed, snuggling as deep as she could. Her eyebrows were furrowed. She just looked so incredibly distressed.

He had tried to get numerous responses out of her, but she had said not one word. He asked if her grandmother had died, or if she had gotten worse. There was nothing but a blank stare that met him for a response. Nate was worried, he really was.

She would barely eat, yet she could sleep like the dead. That seemed to be all she did as of late. He would leave for his mother's house to tend to some more business, kissing her on the cheek before he left, and then come back later only to find that she was still in the exact same position. He had to fight to check her pulse constantly and make sure he still heard breaths whispering through her lips.

There were even numerous times where he would lie his head on her chest, just to make sure she really was still breathing. Nate really had no clue as to what could have happened. He even came back early, just so he wouldn't upset her as much as before. However, he came home to find that she had left, visiting her grandmother. He'd decided to tend to a few other things, and when he'd arrived back for good, she had been buried deep under the covers.

He had shaken Blair awake and she had just stared at him with vacant, tear-filled eyes. He asked her, plain and simple, if it was him. She had waved her head from side to side in a 'no' and that was the first and last form of communication he had received from his love.

Nate wasn't so sure that he could take much more. He was starting to feel like he was being lied to, and he wasn't sure if that was a feeling that he really deserved after all he and Blair had been through together. She was so distant. The last time this had happened, the situation had been reversed, and they had still broken up. The outlook was currently very dismal.

While Nate felt this in a part of him, that part of him was very small. The other part of him settled for sitting in a reclining chair- that is, after the three nights in a row where she unconsciously threw his arm away from her- and watching her. He looked after her like a German Shepard watchdog standing guard over a precious treasure.

And so it stayed for many nights on end. He would just be there for her, whether she knew it or not. She may have been broken, but he would fix her in time, he was positive.

**********

She knew that Nate had been coming in. She was a good actress, that was for sure. Either that or her assumed 'love' was less intelligent than people gave him credit for.

Blair had not slept in days. Not since then. She was afraid to sleep. Afraid that terrible images of _him_ would assault her in the worst ways possible.

Blair was very aware that Nate was watching her break. Quite frankly, though, she just didn't give a shit. He didn't matter any longer. It really was a shame that she was still dragging him along in this way, but she couldn't open her mouth, she couldn't flex her voice-box to speak to him.

The first time he left she wasn't all that surprised. When she was sure he had left, she would cry. She shed tears without one bit of hesitation and allowed herself to think of the past as dark clouds covered the the sky before the first of many storms hit.

It had been raining everyday. In a strange twist of fate and coincidence, as soon as her dearest Nate left, the sky would begin to unleash a treacherous downpour. With the pounding raindrops to cover her sobs, Blair allowed herself a full release of all her emotions every day.

Also on that first day, she had felt the tiniest bit of hope. Hope that she could sneak out, go to see Chuck, and they could run off together. They would be able to be themselves when they escaped on a whim, just to get away from it all. She had even gone so far as to get dressed in fine clothing and look her most prim and proper.

It had all been ruined, though.

When she'd remembered his words. _I'm not waiting._ That had wrecked everything. It had wreaked the most terrible of horrible havocs on her entire being, and that was when she shut down.

For the next few days, she lay awake in her bed. Good old faithful Nate would come in, like clockwork, and check on her. After her third night of silence and no acknowledgment, he had taken to staying in the creaky, reclining chair that was meant to be used as a prop.

He really didn't deserve what she was doing to him. As she heard his breathing, normal even during the latest hours of the night, she thought about this. All he had wanted was to be there for her that first night, even the second night. He would put his warm, muscular arm around her and whisper sweet nothings into her ear to brighten her. Still, though, she remained unresponsive.

There was only one person that could repair Blair Waldorf; it was the man who had broken her in the first place. Because of him, she was now in two pieces, both with jagged, rough edges that continually cut her heart with every day she spent away from him.

**********

As Chuck lay on his bed, drunk into the deepest of all oblivions, he screwed a random bitch he had picked up at Victrola. He fucked the whore like there was no tomorrow, and there really didn't seem to be one right then. He just completely let go of anything that resembled normalcy and turned into alternate-universe Chuck. The one who went completely overboard with all of the things that normal Chuck loved.

It had been four days. Not that he was counting; it was his valet who had chosen to remind him of the headband that was still on the kitchen counter after four days. He surprised himself that he was even able to remember what had happened this morning. Given the laws of physics, chemistry, and five other kinds of science he couldn't name right then, he shouldn't be able to remember anything. In fact, due to the enormous intake of anything and everything illegal Chuck Bass should have been literally brainless by that point.

However, he was a Bass. They hung in there.

_Then why the hell did I just let her walk away?_ A measly, small voice squeaked out as he continued his motions in and out of the blonde's body. He pushed that voice away, telling it to fuck off, and focused on the task at hand: to _not_ pass out while in the act of sex.

After about five more minutes, he accomplished his task. She seemed unsatisfied, but he could have cared less. He did what he normally did after that. After he had gotten a sufficient amount of stamina back, Chuck rose from his laying position on the bed and dragged his silk robe off of the back of the door to his bedroom. He walked out of the bedroom and went into the living room, pulling the fleece blanket outside his door with him.

Once in the small living area of his suite, he curled onto the couch. He held back a bark of a laugh as he thought about his striking resemblance to a cat. He fell asleep almost instantly, but still, all sorts of thoughts plagued his mind. Voices shouted at him in his sleep. They couldn't be called dreams, nor nightmares for that matter. They were simply yelling shrieks of abandon and anger.

_Chuck Bass does not get hurt!_

_Real men know not to think about _being _broken, they are the _breakers.

_You're a Bass, god dammit. Suck it up and quit crying like a sissy. Even if it is in your sleep._

Then, later on, there were whispers of regret and remorse. He heard murmurs of sadness and apology.

_She doesn't deserve this. Blair deserves better than me. She needs Nate._

_Why do I do these things? Why do I have to wreck everything?_

_You need to go back to her. The sooner, the better. She'll take you back, she will._

_It'll all be okay, Chuck._

Then he fell asleep, still refusing to admit that he was broken. He never broke; not ever.

**A/N:** Okay, everyone, I really think the sadness will be over soon. In fact, I swear in the next chapter, there may even be a little bit of fluff. Go figure! So, please review. If you don't, I'll be forced to change the entire context of the next chapter and make it as angsty and sad as possible... Just because I'm evil like that ;). (Ok, i was sort of kidding... I don't wanna be clinically depressed forever...) Please review!


	7. Days

**A/N:** Two chapters in one day?! I must be addicted... Or its your great reviews! I would like to thank everyone who reviewed the last chapter! Its great to know that there was such a good response over all.

This is definitely a considerably long chapter. Its longer than I had thought it would be, ha. I would like to take this opportunity to thank everyone who reviewed for the last chapter, _again_. This is your reward! Please read the whole chapter, it ends with the great fluff I was talking about :).

Also... Thanks to Michelle (Ha, I used your name this time, hope you're happy, lol) for beta-ing. You're amazing and helped my badly-in-need-of-editing-written-when-I-was-half-asleep rough draft immensly, even if you did contribute to quite a bit of angst in this chapter ;).

P.S.: I _still_ don't own Gossip Girl. Damn.

_Days_

After five more days of the same routine, Blair noticed that Nate wasn't staying as long during the nighttime. He would leave for brief periods of time, possibly even hours. She didn't know or care what he was choosing to do with that time.

What she did know was it was time to break out of her pathetic funk. It was time for her to use her best and most-developed skills and make a plan. This time, it was not a plan of revenge. It was one of domination. A plan of winning and superiority. Blair would be damned if she kept moping.

Whenever Nate left, she would flick the switch on her bedside lamp and stare out at the glittering lights of New York City, the gears turning rapidly in her mind. She even permitted her imagination to run wild on some nights, thinking of the most impossible of situations. She would picture fake worlds, places where everything ended perfectly. Settings where she received her happily-ever-after. Because Blair deserved it.

On her thirteenth day of not being in the house, she gained hope again. She knew she could do it. Blair had hatched the most perfect plan. She knew what must be done and she planned to execute the ploy as soon as possible.

Nate was no longer coming back during the day. She expected that he was tiring of her. That he was becoming bored with just looking at her, praying for different results each time, and only getting the same. When she was done with her operation, it would be time to talk to the Archibald. She needed to come clean. She needed to tell him the truth about everything.

And so, on that thirteenth day, Blair Waldorf put on her finest, most pristine, vibrant, blue Chanel dress and stood in front of the mirror. She had nothing to lose now. Not one thing.

She twisted her hair back into an elegant bun and primped it slightly. She fluffed the bottom of it and gave herself a twirl in the mirror. Even without any makeup, she looked better than she had in months. This still didn't mean she didn't need the objects that made her ethereally beautiful. These things would help her to plead her case.

Half and hour later, Blair was in a cab, heading to a place she had vowed not to go again. However, she knew she had to. It was the only way to fix things. She could fix this and she would.

It was a bright morning in Manhattan. The sun was shining for the first time in weeks, and it was a welcomed change. Looking out the window, she was able to see a beautiful, aqua colored sky with bits of white wisps flicked in stray spots. She knew today would be different just by looking up at the sky.

She arrived at The Palace and stood in front of the revolving doors, her face burning with the brutal cold of New York. She needed to think this through. Blair never made rash decisions, and, if she did say so herself, this was pretty rash. She had simply gotten up from the bed and started to get ready.

Though her plan had been in place for nearly a week, she never thought it would actually be put into play. Now, though, Blair knew that she needed to do this. She would feel whole again if she did.

The young girl put her hands on the handle of the door and pushed with all of her might to get inside of the warmly lit building so she would escape the terrible cold. She shivered, getting used to the temperature change, and shrugged off her coat, laying it across her arm.

She didn't need to talk to the concierge. He knew, based on her appearance and general air, that she belonged in this place. She was also able to ascertain that he had seen her several times before.

Blair simply strode into the elevator, staring straight ahead with nothing to say to anyone in the lobby. She saw the van der Woodsens out of the very corner of her eye, but still, she had not one word to say even to them. She rode the elevator up to the eighteenth floor, steeling herself. She was preparing herself. Getting ready for the imminent rejection and denial she was sure to face.

**********

He'd been like this for days. He hadn't showered once in the last week, and he hadn't provided himself with any nourishment, either. No food, no drink, not even scotch. He wasn't even sure he was still alive. Perhaps he was just a ghost that was visiting places he had once been. Re-living familiar experiences.

He hadn't taken a hit in over a week. Not since that night after _it_ happened. After that, he'd stopped. He had ceased because it didn't do anything to soothe him, as it usually did. It didn't take him away from his problems, it seemed to only escalate them. Even the heroine did nothing. Nor the hash. Usually these two combined made him effortlessly unthinking. But after that, they did nothing. Just made it worse.

Chuck had just lay in his bed for the past week. He hadn't moved once. He smelled faintly of urine. Yes, that was right, he hadn't even moved to use the bathroom. The only shifting that gave away that he was still breathing was the blinking of his eyes. It was like he was in hibernation.

Ever since that night when he had been on the couch, he couldn't hold it together anymore. He had bellowed incoherent and frightening phrases to the woman who had awakened in his bed the next morning. He felt the tiniest bit guilty now, she had seemed so frightened.

But she should have been. _I'm Chuck Bass,_ he thought with dark, dry humor. Women were always afraid of men in that family. The Bass males were known for it. In fact, everyone feared them. They got what they wanted, when they wanted it, _because_ people feared them. So why should he be any different?

He decided to shift onto his side and look out the window. Normally by then, there would be dark, looming clouds in the sky and rain pounding incessantly on the roof. But now, it was bright and sunny. It was so unlike his feelings that he wanted to throw a punch at the air, though he knew it wouldn't help anything. He wanted to yell and scream, but he felt like he wouldn't be able to.

He hadn't spoken in nearly a week. The last thing he'd eaten had come from room service and he had barked out orders over the phone. That had been it. One single phone-call six days ago. Every now and then, he would clear his throat, just to make sure he was able to make some sort of sound.

Chuck stayed there like that. He stared out the window and just stared at the blowing trees and watched the smallest, minuscule snowflakes flutter down from the sky. He heard the faint sounds of children squealing and inwardly smirked. He could no longer give the same reactions he once did. It wasn't possible.

It had been days. So many days since he had seen her. It hurt and he hated to admit it, but it wasn't like anyone would ever know. It had been so long.

**********

Nate sat in the swiveling chair of his dad's old office, deep in thought. He had left the Waldorf's nearly three hours ago, and Blair had still been asleep. He was getting sick of everything. He was starting to feel like she was purposely ignoring him to make him feel terrible. He wanted to strangle her sometimes for making him feel the feelings he was starting to feel.

He stared out the window and watched the trees sway in the slight breeze. Before he knew it, he was being assaulted by memories. All sorts of memories from his childhood and even from his more recent teenage years. They all involved a happy and excited Blair, and he felt a tear slip down his cheek. She wasn't like that any longer. It killed him to see her the way she was.

Nate had started to imagine things he never thought possible for him to come up with. He was starting to have thoughts that had no business being in his brain. These things startled him. He even began keeping a knife in his pocket. Every now and then, he would look at the shiny part of the knife and think about things.

Maybe she was already dead and he was conjuring things up in his mind to satisfy him. She may have already been in heaven, and the stench of her dead corpse just hadn't reached his nostrils yet. These things began to convince him and he would become mesmerized by the knife, running the sharp edge along his fingers.

That was what he was doing right then. Running the edge along his hand. It even went down and followed the veins in his wrist. He stopped himself, though.

Blair was alive and well. She was fine. Slightly, anyway. There was no need for him to have such terrible and sad thoughts. Had she been coherent, she would have most definitely hit him hard. She would have told him to wipe his mind of anything terrible.

But that was just it. She wasn't awake. And he wasn't sure she ever would be.

**********

She raised her hand, curled it into a fist, and, with several juts of power, knocked on 1812. She stood there for a good five minutes without receiving a response and just repeated the action. This would not fail. She had made sure it was foolproof before she had ventured out. She would make it through.

Blair listened acutely with her perky ears and finally heard a tiny bit of rustling inside. She took a deep breath and steadied her body, which she hadn't known was leaning very far towards the door, causing her to stumble a little. She raised her nose slightly, fixing a look of importance and perseverance on the delicate features of her face.

Then the door opened to reveal Charles Bartholomew Bass.

His hair was mussed up and incredibly oily, his eyes were wide and rimmed with red, his clothing was stained with horrible unmentionables, and, was that pee that she smelled on him? His hip was stuck out as the door was supporting him, all of him.

Blair reached out for his body instantly. He didn't make any move to stop her or pull away. He didn't resist one bit, and she was eternally grateful for that. She heard him breath her in and felt his nose in her hair as he smelled her and embraced her with a strength she didn't expect.

And so they stood, Blair Waldorf and Chuck Bass. Nothing mattered then to her except them. Nothing mattered at all. She had waited days for this, weeks. It had been so long and she had achingly longed for him for days and days on end. As she had lay in bed, she wished for his arms, for his chest. For his mouth and words that came out of it. For days she had hoped, and now everything had happened exactly as she had wanted.

It seemed she just might have, in fact, gotten her happily ever after.

**********

"Blair," Whispers left his mouth with shaky breaths and a part of him, inside his brain, started. So he _was_ able to form words. He _was_ capable of speak like a normal human being, contrary to his beliefs. It actually made a part of him happy. That part, though, was so small he didn't know about it until hours later.

"Chuck," She spoke clear as day and he just continued to smell her hair. He took in the smell of her at her shoulder and collarbone, her perfume enveloping him and seeping into every crack and crevice of his body. He got completely lost in her and he didn't even care. It felt so good.

She felt so good. Their fight almost two weeks ago didn't mean anything. And apparently, his smell meant nothing to her. He was unconditionally grateful for that.

Finally, Chuck regained a little bit of composure and reality. They were hugging and showing affection in broad daylight, in a hallway. Anyone could have seen them and snapped a picture.

He pulled her into his room and closed the door. Even though he hadn't eaten or drank for a week, he had this burst of energy that just popped up inside of him when he saw her at the door. He now walked with a jaunt in his gait and followed her to his bedroom.

They didn't have sex. He didn't know why, but they didn't have sex. This disappointed him at first, but then he realized that in the end, he hadn't really wanted sex. He just wanted her to be there, as she had told him she would be all those months ago. She could fix him, he was sure of it.

Many moments later, she spoke. "Hey," she murmured, her voice velvety and so very Blair. "You have no idea how much I've missed you."

"I'm Chuck Bass..." he smirked, but the action felt foreign to him, as well as his voice box flexing to speak. "Of course you missed me."

She glared at him, and he changed the direction of his words. "But I missed you, too. A lot."

Blair smiled beautifully at him and he felt his heart swirl around in his chest. He didn't want to ruin the moment and ask about Nate. Knowing Blair, she had already taken care of him. Or she hadn't, but already had a plan.

He pondered for a moment and then words tumbled from his lips that he never thought would.

"Blair, I-" he sighed heavily. He wasn't so sure this was the right time. She _was _Blair Waldorf; she would expect something extravagant and amazing. This was something that Chuck could have given her, since that was where he had come from and how he had been raised; it really just wasn't his style as much anymore.

"Yeah, Chuck?" She whispered into the crook of his neck. Blair had nuzzled in next to him as they lay on the loveseat in his room. He refrained from the bed, knowing that snide remarks would be made about the rancid smell.

"I want you to know that what I said never leaves this room, alright?" His voice had turned hard and he regretted it instantly when her warm breath left his jawline.

"Alright," Blair's voice was equally hard and he cringed. She was about a foot away from him now. He had literally pushed her away with words. He needed to work on that. It was something that needed to be mended immediately.

Chuck grabbed her hand, roughly at first, but then held it loosely in his. It felt so right, now, to be holding hands. If someone had told him, six months ago, that he would be holding hands with Blair Waldorf one day, he would have laughed in their face and kicked them hard in a place where it hurt.

"But I meant it," he breathed onto her cheek before kissing it and letting his mouth linger on the soft skin of her face for a moment longer than necessary. His tongue darted out to taste her. It was like strawberries. He knew that was the most peculiar sounding thing that had ever been uttered in anyone's mind, but it was the truth. She tasted like the sweetest strawberries picked from the most prestigious gardens of the world.

"I love you," she whispered. Her voice was high and it cracked very subtly at first. He felt tears in his eyes; so maybe, just maybe, this was the right moment. He would take his chances. He could always redo it later if the need arose.

Chuck took the deepest of deep breaths and let it out slowly. He concentrated on what needed to be said in response to her words. The sentence that would fix everything, that would let them escape into their fake world, full of truth and promise. He couldn't stutter. That was not an option. This was important and he couldn't ruin it with petty stumbling.

"I love you, too, Blair," he said. He stated it with a clarity that rang like a bell and he was proud. He was so damn proud of himself. He'd finally done it. Chuck had accomplished one of his hardest tasks yet. He was sure he knew what was going through her mind. That it had taken him long enough. Well, things like this, matters of the heart, always took him longer than most other people. All that mattered was that he had finally uttered the words. And he had finally meant them.

Before he knew it, her lips were folded over his. His bottom lip was trapped between her teeth as the muscle inside her mouth ran along it. It tickled him and he smiled for the first time in years. He had never really smiled, not for a very long time. But he was so happy then, it was almost unreal. He fought back the urge to giggle like a little girl.

Everything was perfect now. Nothing mattered but Blair and the couch that they were currently seated on. Nothing else mattered at all. Although it had taken them days to get to this place- days upon days upon days- they had finally gotten there. And the feeling was one of complete ecstasy and triumph.

**A/N: **I can't wait for the reviews that I am sure are to come! I'm so excited to hear what you guys think, because it always makes me smile and melts my heart :). I unconditionally love every person who leaves a review :D.


	8. Blue

**A/N: **Thank you, thank you, thank you! I honestly can't say that enough, reviewers! You guys are completely amazing and inspire me more than anything :). I'm sorry I took so long, but I'm hoping that this chapter will be a nice reward after a long wait.

Thanks to Michelle for the kind comments and helpfulness. I really appreciate it :)

P.S.: You know the drill... Gossip Girl isn't mine... blabbity blobbity blah. Terrible, I know. :P

_Blue_

Blair fell back onto the sheets when she returned from the bathroom. She couldn't believe the events that had taken place within the last few days. It was utterly unreal. It was so unexpected that she had forgiven Chuck so quickly. In fact, under other circumstances, he wouldn't have ever been forgiven. However, maybe she truly was turning Jewish, as she had said those many months ago.

She flipped over to look at Chuck and found him as asleep as could be. His face was totally at peace and she envied that. The girl found herself wondering if he had been able to sleep so tranquilly all these nights. Based on past happenings, though, she discovered that this was difficult to imagine.

Her right hand stroked the comforter of her blue bedspread while her left ran through his newly-trimmed hair. He had just showered and she had been given the sensual honor of combing through his hair and taking a scissors to it. It had been a different thing for them, but not unwelcome, that was for sure. It had brought the two even closer together.

There was so much that Blair was worried, about, however. Nate was the first thing on her list. He had been there for her and unconditionally, at that. He was always there and comforting her. He had even gotten to her before Serena had after the entire Chuck ordeal.

He was sweet and caring and much better than Chuck Bass. Yet, she always found herself coming back to him. She wasn't sure why. It just seemed like he understood her so well. In every gray spot of her life, he was the only black and white thing. It was inevitable that they be with one another and love each other. It was simply expected that they be together, always wrapped in a romantic embrace.

And she had never objected; she never planned to.

**********

Chuck's eyes slowly fluttered to open upon the world around him and he smiled as he felt Blair's hand caressing his face. He realized after a very short time, though, that the caresses were shorter and more rushed than normal. That only meant one thing: she was worried. He knew exactly what about, too. The subject of her anxiousness filled his anger-pot to its boiling point and he just about exploded.

But, before he went ballistic on his newly professed love, he breathed deeply. He could handle this easily without any yelling or harsh words. That was what had pushed her away the last time. He still wanted her at arm's length; that way, if he ever needed her, he wouldn't have to gravel so much. And he knew he would always need her. He was well aware of the fact that he would always need her to be his friend, no matter what.

"Blair," he whispered. His voice was so very quiet that he wasn't even sure it was audible to anyone but himself. It also sounded a bit harsh to his ears. So, he repeated himself, this time with a soft and tender tone of voice and received a response from Blair.

"Hmm?" She sounded dazed as she answered him. Her hand was now drawing intricate ovals on the base of his bare neck and he was going insane.

"Dammit," he hissed quietly, "Can you just stop touching me for a minute?" He groaned when she sped up and then stopped abruptly. Chuck turned to face her and his eyes met hers.

They were the most honest and beautiful eyes he had ever had the pleasure of seeing in his eighteen years. Their coloring was so dark and intricately layered that he could me mesmerized by it for hours on end. Now, however, he needed to focus. He needed to stay on track and keep the reason he had stopped her from her advances in the front of his mind; Chuck wouldn't allow it to slip to the back.

"What is it, Chuck?" Blair's voice was flat and void of any tone whatsoever. He felt a pang deep in the vicinity of his chest when he realized that he had caused her voice. She had moved away from him, as she had earlier, and was now sitting, prim and proper, on the edge of the bed and facing away from him. He heaved a sigh and continued.

"Look, I know you're worried. I know what you're worried about," Chuck said in a steely voice. "Let's just cut the shit and get to it, shall we?"

"What am I worried about then, Chuck? Hmm? You tell me," Blair bit back in a vicious voice. "Since you seem to know everything about me."

"I'll tell you why you're worried!" he had begun to yell. Chuck wasn't sure when this had turned into a fight. Perhaps it was him. After all, it always seemed to fall back on him. Everything was blamed on him, and oddly, he never seemed to mind being the scapegoat when it came to them.

"You're worried because..." he lost his nerve, and breath for that matter, and trailed off. His voice was gently and milky when he continued. "You're worried about Nate." He was barely talking now; to a stranger it would have looked as if he were talking to himself.

"Worried he won't take you back after you're through with me. You're anxious because you aren't sure how he'll handle this. He's been there for you through everything, but maybe this will be the last straw..." he managed to let out in a predatory-sounding whisper.

"And why shouldn't I be, Chuck?" Blair asked. "You're right, I'll concede to that, but why shouldn't I worry about all of these things, huh? If memory serves, you _always_ leave. And then maybe Nate won't be there for me. What'll I do? Find a nice man-whore to keep me occupied? That's not really my style," she bit out, ferocious venom dripping from her voice.

"That's the point, Blair. It won't get to that point this time. I swear to you," he said in an undertone, grasping her hand and holding it securely in his own. "I swear on my life, that I will not leave. I will _not_ hurt you. I promise," he breathed onto her lips before he leaned in to kiss her. He felt her silently give in to him and he smirked onto her lips as her arms wound around his neck.

They fell back onto the blue comforter and he couldn't help but think that maybe someday, they would be married and doing the same thing. And maybe even hearing children's voices from the living room.

A/N: I really think this sucked. I just couldn't really get into it. Don't worry though. I'm going to make it into a two part chapter. So, yay! Right? I hope so. Please, even though this was terrible, could you, would you review?


	9. Steps

**A/N: ***cue creepy music* I'm baaacckkk! I hope you guys like this :). I really loved your reviews for the last chapter as well as my many oneshots. I think writer's block may be fixed, we shall see.... *nervous look*

Thanks, Michelle! Amazing, as alwayysss :)

P.S.: Gossip Girl is not mine.

_Steps_

_Nate stared out the window. He really was unaware of any sort of feeling that was present in his mind. It was as if he were going manic. No real feeling was able to be told apart from another. He had no clue why he had done what he'd done, but he had._

_The only question was whether or not he would do it again. And, if he did, would he succeed?_

**********

She awoke with a start. That was completely unlike any dream she had ever experienced. To be inside of Nate's head made her feel guilty and ashamed. She wanted to throw Chuck's arms off of her and cast him away without a glance back.

But then Blair thought about Nate fully. How he would feel. He might feel as if she were pitying him and that was the only reason she came back. Knowing the Archibald men's values, he would simply want her happiness. And he had to have known that she had not been happy with anyone but Chuck. As much as he might have hated to admit this fact, she knew that he knew, deep down, it was completely truth-filled.

She turned around to look at Chuck. It surprised her when she found his eyes opened and staring at her thoughtfully. He looked so sweet and vulnerable. She just wanted to bottle up the person that he was right in that moment and carry it with her wherever she went. It was something that wouldn't ever be forgotten, and if he tried to forget it, she would remind him.

"What's going on, Blair?" he whispered as his hands went to work at smoothing her tangled locks of hair. She let her eyes close and leaned into his touch, getting lost for a moment before choosing to answer.

"I was thinking about Nate." She had opted for the truth; it always seemed to be the best thing to do with Chuck. It seemed like he appreciated the honesty. It would have been nice if she got it from him every now and then, but she could save complaining for another time.

"What about Nate?" His tone was exasperated as he inquired this and Blair regretted her choice to be truthful. She shouldn't have. Everything was just getting good between them again, the outlook was getting better for their future coupling. Possibly marriage, but, again, that would wait for a later date.

"Chuck, it wasn't what you think, I swear. I don't... I..." Blair became mindful and thoughtful of her actions and words as she continued. "I couldn't ever really love him. I don't think I will ever be able to. He hurt me on a level so deep that it's always there. It was a type of hurt that even the mighty Chuck Bass wouldn't be able to accomplish."

Chuck sighed in defeat and Blair smiled broadly. She had convinced him. Step one of the transformation was slowly getting close to completion. She was breaking him; granted, it was happening slowly, but it was still a feat to be proud of. Blair was very proud. It seemed so fitting that she be the one to free Chuck from his old self and cause him to morph into a new gentleman.

The best part of this was that he was all-willing. That was why she loved him.

**********

"Okay, then. This never leaves the room, Waldorf, but I was so jealous of you and Nathaniel for the longest time..." he trailed of and shook his head in an ashamed way. He couldn't believe he'd just admitted that. But, it could possible make whatever was blossoming between them that much more sweet and kind.

And that was what he needed after all the darkness and clouds.

"Aww... Chuck, I-" he heard her choke on her words and bit his tongue to keep a laugh from coming on. This wasn't normal Chuck and Blair, that was for sure. They didn't do sentimentality. They never, ever did sweetness. There was always something behind the two if either was attempted. A scheme. A machination that would hurt the other or simply benefit the one who came up with it.

Now, though, Chuck was sensing a difference. Maybe their relationship had reached a new peak and would continue to climb higher. They (okay, mainly him) had possibly matured and were now able to handle the responsibility.

It was time for _"in the future"_ now. And Chuck was ready for it. The only question that he had was if Blair was.

By the starry look in her eyes, she was. So, they would venture into the cavernous depths of love- a young love, at that. They would dive deep and never turn around to look at what they were leaving behind.

**********

Nate was no longer as blue as he had once been. It was different now. He had seen everything in a new light. He and Blair just... they didn't really click anymore. He still felt this overwhelming protection for her, though, and he hadn't the faintest idea on how to get rid of it. It was like a brotherly instinct, but slightly more intense and passionate.

He knew that a low point had been hit earlier. He was now prepared to get control over everything that had taken place. He planned to get to a shrink; he wasn't like his father, he knew when help was needed. And right now, after the recent occurrence, a professional was absolutely necessary.

Nate knew that no one would benefit from his suicide. Chuck would most likely kill himself (father and _then_ the best friend?) since there would be no one for him to live for, Blair would be positively devastated, and Serena, well, she was Serena. He supposed she would cope in her own way.

But, the point was, this was a problem he had. Admitting it was the first step. The second step was seeking the authoritative help that he required. He was now doing what he had to do. And it was for himself, not for Blair.

**********

Blair and Chuck were laying in bed, staring at one another. Bed talk wasn't something she had ever ventured into with anyone else, but with Chuck anything was possible. That much was becoming plainly apparent. They were now into a playful question game. It was surprising that neither knew the other as well as they thought, but not untrue.

"Favorite... Fuck, Blair, I'm running out of favorites," he ran his hand through his hair and Blair grinned.

"I'll go," she volunteered happily.

"Favorite flavor of Popsicle," she whispered, a mischievous glint moving about in her eyes.

"Mmm," he ran his hand along the contour of her upper-torso and she shivered as he growled lightly and tantalizingly. "Should I ask why this question came up?"

"Just answer, Bass," she replied coyly, shaking her curls from side to side.

"Cherry," Chuck began, "Like your lips..." he murmured as he groaned and leaned in to kiss her. She felt something pressing against her leg and smirked.

"You can't wait at least an _hour?_ We have to keep at it like rabbits? I guess Mr. Bass truly isn't ever satisfied... How terribly upsetting." She pouted and his lips wiped it away.

"With you, Blair, never," Light amber met dark chocolate as their eyes locked and they fell back onto the pillows. Moans were intermixed with pants and whispers of love as they did something so many others did, but only Chuck and Blair could do the way they did.

**A/N:** Short, again. I know, I'm bad. But I had to get it done and up! So here it is! I love the ending myself... but just let me know :) You better effing review, my little quiches (ok, weird, but just review, alright?!)


	10. Dreams and Visions

**A/N:** I was listening to an old, old, _old_ song and got inspiration for this chapter. I'm hoping that it will take that lurch I've been trying to find for the last few chapters. I'm kind of thinking the reason people didn't review was because the chapters were just really short and more of fillers. This is eventful, I assure you. I finally found a groove for this chapter, so here it is!

Thanks, Michelle, for beta-ing! :)

P.S.: I put this disclaimer in before every chapter and every story I do... I'm wondering if I just want to make myself more sad. Anyway, Gossip Girl is not owned by me.

_Dreams and Visions_

_**I've been having dreams and visions, in them you are **_

_**always standing...Right beside me.**_

_**--Tracy Chapman, Wedding Song (Album: Telling Stories)**_

_**********_

**2 weeks later...**

Blair hadn't contacted Nate in days. He wasn't sure why, but he was starting to feel like she was avoiding him. It wasn't a feeling that helped him right now.

As he spoke with his therapist, Becky, about Blair, the both of them had come to a conclusion that he and Blair did belong together. It had just taken Nate a little while and a few hurdles to leap over to get to this end point.

The question was, if they _did_ belong together, why wasn't Blair back yet? Why hadn't she returned from wherever she had run off to? That day when Nate had come home to find an empty, slept-in bed and no note from the always-thinks-of-others Blair Waldorf, he had been worried, to say the least.

He'd called her cell phone and left dozens of messages in the first twenty minutes. He had called Serena, her mother, anyone who could know the possible whereabouts of his beloved. Nate had turned up with not one thing, though. So he had resolved to stop. It was possible for him to wait for her until she came back, whenever that was.

Now, however, the boy was getting increasingly upset with each second that ticked by on the five-thousand dollar Cartier watch that donned his wrist. He was starting to feel unimportant and unwanted. These were feelings that an _Archibald _should never feel.

Then Nate thought of the one person, the once place, he hadn't checked yet. He jumped up from his seat and walked briskly out the open door of his home, on a mission like never before.

**********

"Chuck, have you seen my new black Marc Jacobs?" Blair called from the depths of her closet as she searched frantically. She heard a sigh from the other room and mentally chided herself. She knew how much Chuck hated it when she did this.

"What isn't new these days?" She heard him mumble in a grouchy tone as he leaned against the frame of the cedar walk-in closet. "No, Blair, I haven't seen them. Can't you just find another pair of six hundred dollar shoes to wear? We're going to be late, and this is important."

"Don't think I am unaware of the importance of this dinner, Bass. That's why I'm trying to _find _the _new_ shoes! I have to make a good impression! Now, dammit, where the hell are they?!" Her screech was shrill as she threw a well-worn pair of Steve Madden heels off to the side where they hit the wall with a neglected thump.

"Well, I'm waiting in the limo, Waldorf. If you are not _there_ in twenty minutes, I'll have to call an escort service." The words came out in a sneer from his lips and Blair threw one of her Coach stilettos at his ear on the way out. It clunked into the side of his head, making him grimace and gasp in pain, and she smiled triumphantly.

"I'd take some Advil for that!" She called after him as she heard the door shut, her snarky remark unanswered.

**********

Five minutes. If she wasn't out here in five minutes, he would tell the limo driver to push it to the gala as fast as humanly possible.

However, even Chuck Bass knew that Blair Waldorf would not cope well with being left behind. Therefore, he would probably end up waiting if she took more than the allotted twenty minutes, and this would make them late to the important evening ahead.

He sighed as he looked at his watch and then trained his eyes out the dark window. He always liked to people watch when she wasn't around to criticize him. It was fun to watch the events that took place in Manhattan- the fights, the makeups, the outright brawls- and he enjoyed it immensely.

Finally, after about _six _minutes, the door opened and he jerked his head to see a slightly taller Ms. Waldorf crawling into the backseat demurely. He looked her up and down with approval and patted at a spot dangerously close to him. If she sat there, only about three centimeters would separate the two and Chuck knew that they would definitely be late to the dinner.

"I couldn't find them," she mumbled as her bottom lip stuck out childishly.

All of Chuck's bitter thoughts about money and expensive apparel were pushed away as soon as he had seen how she looked tonight. Because of this, he said, "I'll buy you a new pair. For Valentine's day."

"Valentine's was ages ago, Chuck. Besides, these were _custom_," Blair replied in an icy tone laced with disappointment.

"We can make our own V-day, Blair," he whispered in the hollow right beneath her ear. A satisfied smirk stretched onto the right side of his mouth as he felt her body slump against the seat and he heard a defeated sigh fall from her lips.

"Bendel's," Blair mumbled into his lips before he entwined his hands in her hair and kissed her reverently and slowly.

Her lips tasted like cookies. All he wanted to do was eat them out of literal hunger and hunger for her, everything on her and in her. As the kissing continued, his hands began to massage her sides and up and around to her back, making her melt further in his arms. When his tongue delved into her mouth, a faint taste of wintergreen was absorbed into his taste buds and he heard a whimper escape from low in her throat.

"Am I forgiven now?" Chuck whispered as he pulled away and lightly pecked her a few times.

"Mmm..." It was obvious to him that she had been left in a daze and a smile graced his after-shave-esque features. "What did you even do?" She smiled dumbly at him as they scooted closer together.

"The closet. Your shoes," he reminded her. He was sure he might regret bringing this up again later, but it was his duty to be truthful to her.

"Oh."

He noticed her scoot away a bit more and she stared out the window for the rest of the car ride.

_Smooth, Bass, real smooth,_ Chuck thought to himself as they pulled up to the grand hotel and Blair opened her own door, walking in by herself and not waiting for him.

It would be a long night.

**********

Nate knocked on the door of 1812 with an angry force as he glared at the numbers. He was furious. He had been furious as soon as he had asked at the front desk if Chuck Bass was staying here. The reply he had been given was that, yes, Mr. Bass was taking up residence in the familiar suite and a certain Ms. Blair Waldorf was living with him.

He had punched his fingers on the button of the elevator and then, when he got up to the eighteenth floor, punched his fist into a wall. He fumed, silently of course, even more when the door was not answered.

Nate Archibald then went to Plan B: The Key. He fumbled around in his pocket for the parcel that Chuck had given him so many years ago, when Nate had given him a key for his apartment as well. He hadn't ever had a use for it until now. Chuck normally kept his door unlocked, but tonight, it would not budge. This fact only added to Nate's anger and suspicion, of course.

The door flung open instantaneously and revealed a clean apartment. That was very unlike Chuck. His apartment was never clean. On many occasions it had been called the 'frat house' and was mocked mercilessly.

However, now, it was spotless and practically sparkling with cleanliness. That only meant one thing: his worst fears had come true. To confirm his thoughts, he ventured farther into the no-longer bachelor pad and looked around a bit more.

What he found astonished him. There were black skirts and cream ruffled shirts in the closet, as well as shoes. Thousands upon thousands of shoes. That fact indicated one thing: there was now a female staying in the suite 1812. This was an unprecedented even for Chuck Bass, and under other circumstances, Nate would have been proud and patted him on the back.

Not when it involved _his_ girlfriend though.

He had pictured forever with Blair. Nate had wanted to fill a large, extravagant house with _their_ children. He wanted to be there with her through everything; they could and would be a supportive husband and wife team. Now, all his dreams and visions were shot to hell.

The boy should have known that _he_ would ruin it all. That was what _he _did. Chuck stole everything from him and he knew that he sounded like a petty teenage girl, but he did not care one bit.

His blue eyes scanned around the room until they landed on the varnished cherry-wood desk that had belonged to Chuck's dad. He saw papers littered all over it, and as he got closer, saw one particular paper on the top, with a torn envelope laying next to it.

Nate picked up the heavy, textured invitation and his eyes slowly absorbed the words. He slowly registered what was happening and he felt anger rise in the pit of his stomach and a bit of green slime intruded on his heart. He set the card down and left the room.

There was only so much Chuck and Blair that Nate was able to take, and smelling both of them together in the room had started to become too much for him.

Nate, the one who rarely made plans, had a ploy in place already and the gears of his mind were turning faster and faster as the cab he was in picked up speed.

**********

He stared at her as she was glided around the dancefloor by one of the older men of the company. His scotch was in hand, as always, and he glowered at the two, hoping that her eyes would meet his in time.

There was no such luck, though. Minutes went by, and Blair switched dancing partners without one glance in his general direction. It was infuriating him to the point of explosion. He slammed his empty glass down onto the counter and stood up, swaying a bit from the amount of alcohol he had consumed.

As he walked over to the man who was practically groping _his_ Blair, her eyes finally met his. They were stern and angry. He saw something else behind the cold emotion, though. There was the tiniest bit of fear woven in with the anger in her eyes. His pace quickened and he tapped the man on the shoulder, roughly.

"Excuse me, Mr. Waller, but could you be so kind as to relinquish my date?" Chuck asked politely as he took advantage of the little bit of space that had been created when the sleaze-bag had stepped away. To anyone who knew him, it would have been apparent that there was a snarkiness to his words that was rarely there.

"She's a dandy, Chuck-y boy," the man mumbled into his ear as he walked off. He had smelled of whiskey and brandy, old-man's liquor, and Chuck swallowed a chuckle as he twirled Blair around on the cream-and-white checkerboards of the floor.

"As high as my gratitude for what you just did may be, I'm still pissed at you," Blair bit out as she leaned her head on his shoulder and said "sweet" nothings into his ear.

"Aw, I love you too, Waldorf. The gracefulness and wording that you have is just so eloquent; I'm sure Emily Post would be proud," he murmured gruffly on her lips before pressing his mouth to hers. She yanked her pink plumpness away from him and turned her head to the side, huffing out a breath and lifting her head sligtly.

"You know what?" She spat at him when she finally gave out the courtesy of looking at his face. "I'm going to leave. You can fend for yourself this evening, Bass. And maybe, just maybe you'll come to your senses and give me a _real_ apology. Hmph," she ground out as she stamped on his foot and kneed him in the ankle all in one swift movement.

He crumpled onto the ground, kneeling on his good leg and half-grimaced, half-smiled up at her as she walked out, glaring at him ferociously on the way.

It had been a long night indeed. The evening was still young, however, and Chuck intended to find out why the hell she was being so moody. And more bitchy and sensitive than the normal Blair.

**********

As Blair sat in the back of the taxi, crying her eyes out, she struggled to find out exactly what the problem was here. She rubbed under her bottom eyelashes, trying to wipe off any mascara that had run in the process of her salty tears.

The cab driver looked in the rear-view mirror for the third time that night, and for the first time, Blair spoke back to the reflection.

"What the hell do you think _you're_ looking at? Hmm? You rotting, stodgy, asinine _rodent,_" she threw at him with vigor and fierceness. She peeled one of her black leather gloves off of her hand and tossed it at the back of his head, hearing a satisfying whip as it hit him.

"Nothing, miss," he muttered.

"Do I _not_ look like a _ma'am _to you?! With the money I have, I deserve the courtesy of a ma'am, you bastard!" Blair screamed at him.

"Sorry, ma'am. Ma'am, it was nothing, ma'am." The poor plebe stuttered on his words and shook slightly when she loud out an exasperated and annoyed grunt.

She was scaring him. She'd never meant to scare anyone.

"God, I have to go back _there,_" she mumbled to herself. She couldn't go back to her own home for fear of a confrontation that she had been avoiding for fourteen days. She couldn't go to Nate's for fear of a fight that she had been dodging for two weeks. Serena was out of town. That only left the one place that she had resided in for the past three hundred thirty-six hours.

"I'm s-sorry m-ma'am?" he stuttered again and Blair felt guilt sweep over her whole body.

"Nothing. Just take me to 455 Madison Avenue, please." The girl put a sickly sweet tone to her voice that fooled the old man easily.

"You're awfully dressed up tonight. Anywhere special?" He ventured to ask.

"I was at an event for Bass Industries," she replied softly, tears burning her eyes once again. It was starting to dawn on her. With her mind in other places, it hadn't even been a twinkle in her mind before this.

"Ah, I see...Isn't the boy running it now? Hasn't the older one passed on?" The man continued to pepper her with questions that were only half-listened to.

She ignored this question and opted for a different tactic. "Sir, if you don't mind, I would really prefer not talking right this second," she squeaked out on bated breath.

"Fine." he sighed gently, his soft hazel eyes meeting hers in the mirror again.

She shook her head. Blair lolled her head back on the seat of the cab and shifted to gaze out the window, tears running down her face again. She didn't bother to wipe at them; there wasn't any use now.

Five minutes later, after she had been dropped off at the hotel and settled herself in upstairs, she sat on her- _their,_ she supposed- bed primly. The eighteen-year-old young woman had changed into stretchy Diesel jeans and a large cotton dress shirt that had once belonged to her father. She knew what she had to do, and was humiliated by it. Utterly embarrassed, and Blair Waldorf was never embarrassed.

She was ashamed as she walked out of the room and into the elevator to travel down to the lobby's gift-shop. When she reached the swiveling door of the entrance, she breathed deeply and prepared herself for the purchase she was about to make.

"Excuse me," She whispered conspiratorially to the cashier, "could you please tell me where women's items are?" She fiddled with her fingers as she listened to the answer.

"Back in the corner, miss," the elderly woman murmured back without looking up from her magazine or bothering to stop smacking her gum. It irritated Blair when such high-profile hotels hired such impolite employees. Although, it seemed to irritate her even more so now.

She stormed off to the corner and picked up a small box. When Blair returned to the checkout, she slammed the box down on the counter. This received a confused look from the woman with big hair and Blair simply stared out the window of the store. After she had thrown a twenty on the counter and barked to keep the change, she stomped out and got back into the elevator.

_**********_

Nate arrived half an hour after he had found the letter at Chuck's suite. He had managed to cool down considerably, but there was no doubt in his mind that he would still be likely to tear Chuck's throat out. There was no way he could ever hurt Blair again, but he had no problem destroying Chuck.

He walked into the grand ballroom after a butler had taken off his wool coat. His eyes skimmed around the room, looking for a mane of brown hair or a head of thick, scruffy, and maple-colored hair. After looking for a good two minutes, he was able to ascertain that Blair was not here. But Chuck sure as hell was. That made what he was about to do a lot easier.

He stalked over to Chuck and tapped him on the shoulder impatiently. It angered him that Chuck languidly finished his conversation with one of his businessmen before giving the courtesy of turning around. When he finally did, though, Nate could no longer resist hitting him.

There was a satisfying crack as his nose started to bleed, and all that Nate did was stand there, with an evil and triumphant smirk on his manly face. He had never been one to smirk, but when he had accomplished a feat as great as punching someone who'd had it coming for years, he decided the occasion called for it.

The Archibald boy knew that he couldn't stay. If he did, he would be dragged off as per the orders of "Mr. Bass." Nate would leave now, instead, to avoid any more conflict. He had done what was necessary, what helped him to vent. Now his mission was accomplished.

All that was left was Blair.

**********

As blood ran down from Chuck's face and into his mouth, he growled and spat at everyone in sight. It was a given that he would regret being so uncivil to his future co-workers later, but at that moment, he didn't give a shit. They could all die and he wouldn't give a rat's ass. He needed out. Now.

What he really needed was to find Blair. After Nate had punched him, he was unsure of what would happen next. Would Nate find Blair? Feed her some ridiculous lies? He needed her as soon as possible. He had to get to her before Nate did.

So Chuck left. He left the event that was one of the most important of his life. He didn't make the effort to mutter a good-bye to one soul in the brightly-lit place; he simply got into his limo and fled. It was embarrassing enough to be punched out in front of all those businessmen, but to have to bid adieu to them with an almost-broken nose... No, that would be utter humiliation to the point of no return.

"Palace," he bit out at the limo driver. "As fast as this damn car will go, or you won't live to see the stroke of twelve tonight." He knew it was a tad harsh, but he needed to get back to the Palace. He needed Blair. He had to get to her and apologize and make everything right.

At some sort of warp-speed that Chuck didn't care to know the number of, the arrived in front of his hotel exactly two minutes later. He thanked the limo driver and said that there would be a special bonus in his paycheck at the end of the month. Whether or not that was the truth was something that Chuck kept to himself.

He didn't want to waste time waiting for the stupid elevator, so instead, he ran up the fire escape stairs. Chuck reached the door of 1812 and opened it. It was unlocked, he realized; this meant that Blair had come back to his suite. That was a good sign.

"Blair?" he called as soon as he entered the room. He assumed she had retired to bed early and would just ignore him, so he ventured farther into his bedroom. They bed was made and it didn't look like anyone had been anywhere near it recently. He heard a sob come from the bathroom. So that was where she was. He pondered what she could be doing in there.

"Blair?" Chuck questioned again as he pushed the cream-colored door of the pristine bathroom open gently. He peeked in with reluctant eyes. The sight that was before him broke his heart. He literally felt something in his chest slowly tearing in two at the scene.

There his beautiful Blair sat. She was kneeling in front of the porcelain white of the toilet, with her tear-soaked hair in disarray and her hands covering her shaking head and face. She looked up at him as he walked further into the bathroom and her eyes were wide with fright. He looked into the toilet and saw vomit lining the outside rim of the water inside.

He wrapped his arms around her, deja vu sweeping over him as he did so. He rubbed her back consolingly and kissed her cheek comfortingly. She fell back against him and he heaved a somewhat contented sigh.

They were quite the picture of disaster. Chuck with blood all down the front of his white shirt and a nose that was slowly darkening with bruises. Blair with her hair knotted and framing her face in clumps. The two looked like one of the world's most dysfunctional couples that stayed together because they just couldn't be apart. And that was the raw truth.

Both of them knew, deep down, that the other had the same dreams and visions as them. That they both dreamed the same gooey and sweet dreams at night. They were also aware that they would last forever, as long as they stayed together. That was why Chuck decided to ask the question that could possibly tear them apart.

"What happened?" he whispered in her ear as they swayed back and forth to a beat that only they knew. He continued to stroke her arms and she let out a sigh that sounded more like a sob as she pulled her head from his hands and looked him in the eyes with determination.

**A/N: Soo... long long long!!! But I'm happy with it. The question is, are you??? REVIEW! Please...**


	11. Speak

**A/N: **I'm sick. It's snowing (nearly ten inches already!). _And_ I'm writing this. I'm really hoping you review...But I s'pose, even when I'm grouchy and sick, the story alert adds and favorite story adds suffice. However, I really would love love love it if you just picked out a favorite, or even least favorite, part or quote from the chapters...The reviews that I get help me a lot. Even if it's constructive criticism. I still love it :)

Thank you to Michelle for her nitpicky qualities that helped to make this chapter great! ;)

P.S.: I do not live with Blair or Chuck. I am not part of Gossip Girl; Because of these two things, there is no way that I can say I am the owner of the great show...

_Speak_

"Blair, talk to me. Please," Chuck whispered as his grip on her hand morphed into a vice-like grabbing. He saw her face contort into a grimace, and he immediately loosened his fingers. There were white marks where his thick hand had been.

"I-" her voice cut itself off with a stifled sob and she fell out of his arms. He had no idea how to handle this. He didn't know what was wrong, and it was a situation where he wasn't so sure he would be able to fix her.

She needed to _talk_ to him. That was all he needed. To have a clue here.

"Honey," he gagged in his mind because he _never, ever, ever_ used pet names. Not with _anyone. _It was totally foreign to him.

"Please, Blair, just tell me what's going on. If you relapsed, you'll get through it. I'll help you, I swear. And I'll quit being such an ass," he whispered on her forehead as he peppered a few kisses on her creased brow line.

"Chuck, I'm...er..." he watched something in her face switch dramatically and he steeled himself. That was complete determination on her face. He was able to tell that she would get the words out if it was the last thing she did. Even he knew, possibly better than anyone else, that Blair Waldorf did not trail off, nor did she stutter.

"I'm pregnant," she said in a prim voice, raising her chin slightly. "And if you have a problem with that, you can just leave right now. Or...I can leave because this is your hotel room..." She shook her head as he noticed her confident resolve falter for a minute. "Either way, we'd be done."

Chuck let out a small gasp and puffed out his lips. He stood up from the floor and tried to absorb her words. He attempted to arrange them in such a way that _didn't_ horrify him. Come hell or high water, he did love her, and he didn't want her to be hurting.

So much for that.

"Bastard," she said coldly as she stared into his eyes with tears in her own.

He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion and then realized that she had take his reaction incorrectly. He jogged after her as she began a pregnant-lady-taking-care-of-business paced walk. Chuck caught his breath for a moment and decided to use words instead of inducing a coronary on his non athletic heart.

"Blair!" he bellowed in a hollow voice as she scrambled to throw some clothes in a bag. He watched her in awe as she didn't fold one article of her expensive couture.

"Damn," he muttered to himself. However, he finished his thought in his mind. _She sure is persnickety when she's pregnant. _Knowing Blair, she would hear him with her always-alert ears.

"So what? You're going back to Nate now? You really think he'll let you come back to him..." he trailed off and chuckled mirthlessly.

"He will," she snapped back in his general direction with a bite to her voice. "Because he knows that you wouldn't handle this properly. _Nate_ loves me and would take care of _my_ child because of that. He wouldn't care that he wasn't the father."

His face fell slightly as her words sunk in. They hurt, those words. They cut deeply in his soul and heart. It was like little daggers being plunged into every part of him over and over again as he replayed her small speech.

Then Chuck smirked. _She's so sure..._ _If only she knew..._ he thought.

He stalked over to her with strangely light steps. He grabbed her hand and was slightly surprised when she didn't yank it back. Instead, she took his other hand and looked up into his eyes.

_**********_

She knew that she couldn't hate him. She also knew that her emotions really weren't this unstable yet, she was simply trying to prepare Chuck for when they were. Even if it was an unconscious effort, it was still clear to her.

"I'm sorry," she whispered as she fell into his chest and buried her head against his soft shirt, which was still soaked with brown, rust-colored liquid. "I overreacted. I know you'll be great, Chuck," she murmured as she lay her ear against his chest and listened to his calming heart-beat.

She felt a strange loss as his body heat left hers and he turned to look out the window.

"I have to be honest, Blair. I'm scared shitless. I'm not in any way ready to be a _dad,_" he said with sardonic drops coming off of every word.

Her eyes welled up with watery tears and they fell fast and at a steady pace. She looked at his face and studied it as he turned around to look at her. She wasn't even aware of her sobs until he came over to start rubbing her back gently. The switching of moods from the both of them was giving her emotional whiplash and she was suddenly very tired.

"But," he muttered into her hair. She could feel the reluctance reverberate in her ears and let out another gasp of tear-soaked air.

**********

"I do like you an awful lot, in case you didn't know...I may not say it often, but I do love you, Blair. So I will stick with you through all of this. And I'll do this because I care. And I don't want you with anyone else because I'll get crazy jealous and you won't like Chuck Bass when he's jealous," he whispered as an afterthought.

He felt her head turn in his arms and looked down at her strained face. He saw exhaustion in every pigment of her pale white skin. Her tired attitude oozed from her pores and he stroked her face comfortingly.

"How is Chuck Bass when he's jealous? Tell me," she murmured as she folded her lips over his and then pecked him a few more times. He smiled during the fourth kiss and formulated an answer.

"So, story time, is it?" He asked.

"No," she replied with a confused look gracing her beautiful porcelain face.

"You're exhausted, Blair...I don't want that kid to lose sleep, either. Get into bed and I'll tell you a story. None of that pre-slumber prep stuff, either. Straight to bed, tonight, or you'll regret it," Chuck tapped his index finger on the tip of her nose and she pranced into bed.

"Out of idle curiosity, what would my punishment have been?" She whispered in a questioning purr.

"You don't want to know..." he said as he wrapped his arms around her body and kissed down her jawline. Before he got too carried, away he remembered the reason for being there in the first place.

"Alright, are you ready? All settled?" he whispered into her hair as she nuzzled her back against his chest.

"Mhmm..." came her dreamy response.

"Good. Now, none of this leaves this bedroom, Waldorf. Just because I love you and you're carrying _my_ _child _in there," he said, rubbing her abdomen affectionately, "doesn't mean I can't still take you down."

Chuck felt Blair's body shake with a silent laugh and she replied, "When has anything that happened in this bedroom _stayed _in this bedroom?"

So, Mr. Bass began telling Ms. Waldorf of all the times she had made him crazy jealous. The occurrences ranged, astonishingly, from preschool to now, and she laughed after each short story. The couple hadn't ever shared an experience like this, and it was new for them to not be throwing crude or lewd comments at one another.

It was, however, something they could get used to.

**A/N: **Now, you're damn lucky you got this out of me, haha. I have a headache the size of Alaska right now, but I just couldn't handle not finishing the chapter! I know it was short, but I'm really hoping that I might be able to crank out a longer one tomorrow :). I am also aware that Nate's POV was not present in this chapter. That'll come later, I promise... There's also a LOT of Chair fluff. I may gag, but I know lots of people love the fluff, and I just couldn't resist. Even when I'm sick, I still get in fluffy moods. I hope everyone enjoyed :).


	12. Hormoans

**A/N: **Well, here it goes. Hope it doesn't suck too much :) Also...Reviews! I just checked and I actually got more than I thought, lol. I love you guys for reviewing. I am really happy to know that people respond so well to the story :) So, thank you everyone and you're amazing, in case you didn't know!

Michelle is amazing for reading this over and leaving some great comments. Also, thanks to Lindsay for reviewing ;)

P.S.: I don't own Gossip Girl

_Hormoans_

_**7 weeks later...**_

"Chuck..." Blair crooned as her hand worked its way around his neck and stroked it teasingly. His eyes shot open instantaneously and he responded very quickly. His hands were on the sides of her face in a moment and the two were flipped immediately.

"Well, it sure is an _excellent _morning..." he murmured into her lips as their ministrations continued.

"Mmm..." she moaned into the crook of his neck as his kissed descended upon her shoulder and upper arm.

It was slightly surprising to her how much her sex-drive had gone up in the last few weeks. The doctor had told her in the beginning that it was a possibility, but that in most pregnancies there was irritability more than increased libido. She was absolutely certain that the man in bed with her right now, though, was not complaining.

As long as he was happy, so was she.

**********

Nate had restrained from doing anything stupid for so long. He'd busied himself with helping his mother out for the past two months or so and had tried to completely block certain people from his mind.

He hadn't found much success.

Everywhere he turned, it was as if there were something silently mocking him. Bass Industries signs and Dior perfume seemed to assault his senses more than usual. Chuck was on the front page of every newspaper every day, it seemed, and Blair's glowing face often accompanied him.

It was like they didn't even care any longer whether Nate knew. Blair had just dropped him, and Chuck did the same after that night at the gala. Now they were parading around without a care in the world, and it was pissing him off. He didn't know how to avoid them anymore; the pictures, the articles, they plagued him.

The worst part was..._She_ was pregnant. And he'd had to find out through the Times. She couldn't even come back to him to tell him that! It enraged him and when he did find out, he had drunk all of his anger and sorrow away at the Palace, of all places. A part of him had wanted to see them. He wanted _them_ to see what he had become because of their lies and masquerades.

**********

He had to admit, he was enjoying what they had become. Their relationship had hit a new high since the pregnancy had begun. Normal Blair had been replaced by alternate universe Blair; Chuck Bass, being the horn-dog he was, couldn't have been happier about it.

The young billionaire still felt an indescribable guilt, however. He had taken her from his best friend again. It was something that he hated; it was one of his worst vices. And it was also what haunted him in his dreams every single night.

She never knew, of course. It would make her feel worse, and he doubted that the constant sex life they had been having as of the past several weeks would be a real thing any longer. He knew that with the thing - he still had not fully come to terms with it - growing inside of her came all sorts of emotions that could change at any moment.

This also meant that her vixen attitude would most likely disappear soon. It made him want to cry sometimes, it really did. And Chuck Bass was not one to cry too often. Unless it involved the wonderfully amazing experience of sex, of course.

"Blair? You here?" he called hesitantly when he walked in the door.

"In here..." she called back with a strange twinge to her voice. He heard music coming from the kitchen and strolled in, dropping his briefcase on the tiled floor with a thud as he took in the sight of her at the counter.

She was holding an expensive crystal bowl with peach yogurt in it and put a large glob in her mouth slowly. But that wasn't the only thing that had his breath quickening and perspiration tickling the palms of his hands. All she wore was a tight negligee with intricate lace detailing on the top near her neck.

It was like his naughtiest fantasy had come true.

"Hi," she whispered as her index finger beckoned him to come towards her. He nodded in response to her greeting and obliged; he felt like some strange force was causing him to glide over to the angel that had replaced Blair Waldorf. When he was standing in front of her, knees close to giving out, he wrapped his arms around her waist and put them on the marble behind her.

Without saying a word, she dipped her finger seductively in the yogurt and dabbed it on the tip of his nose. After that, she leaned in and kissed it, sucking gently. He let out a slow breath, controlling himself for the moment.

When she pulled away he looked in her eyes. "Well, this is new..." Chuck said with a breaking quality to his voice from attempted self-control. "I love it," he whispered huskily as his face nuzzled her neck with dozens upon dozens of kisses.

**********

Blair whimpered as his lips fell down to her collarbone. She hopped down from the counter and leaned further into him, moaning when their bodies became flush against one another. She wedged her hands in between the two of them and started to unbutton his suit jacket, pushing it off of his chest and letting it float to the floor like a feather.

Her legs turned to mush as they strode back to the bedroom in 1812. She grasped him tighter and his hands drifted down to cup her butt.

"Hmm...Maybe we should stop...I mean, we've-" Blair tried to say, but Chuck silenced her by throwing her back against the duvet of the bed.

"If we stop now, Waldorf, then you really are the true definition of a tease..." he said with a disappointed look donning his face. It disappeared as soon as her hands grazed the nape of his neck though. She loved that his neck was the weak point. It made everything so easy...It was very accessible.

Blair lost all conscious thought, though, when his hands pulled at her hair and he nipped at her ear. She began to pull down his pants in primal instinct and giggled to herself. This was a fun life; it was what she had been missing.

**********

_**Two weeks later...**_

One thing was for sure: that sex drive that had thrilled him so much only thirteen days ago? Yeah, that was gone now. It had been replaced with the terribly irritability that Dr. Morrison had told them about.

Chuck had been secretly hoping that said "irritability" was an urban legend, something that was heard of in very few cases, and probably wouldn't happen to dear old Blair. Oh how wrong he had been, though.

After the yogurt incident, Blair had gone ballistic. Everything he did bothered her and she ran very hot and cold. Cravings were starting to come closer together, and of course he was the one that ran out and satisfied each. She wouldn't have it any other way; she didn't want to "inconvenience the help." It baffled him that _Blair goddamn Waldorf_ didn't want _hired help_ to be waiting on her hand and foot.

For some reason, each time, she insisted it be him running out for each of her whims. And then, when he would try and subtly ask for the slightest bit of gratitude, she pushed him away. That was what she was doing right then.

"Chuck...Stop," she said in a flat voice and shoved him away with force. Without thinking, he glanced down at her ever-growing abdomen and she glowered at him.

"What? Am I just that big right now?! And what is with you, bastard? What's with all the pushing for sex, huh? Must just be a symptom of your AIDS," she growled out at him with clenched teeth.

He looked at her in astonishment and she continued her "I'm-pregnant-and-deserve-so-much-better-than-this-mediocre-shit" rant. His mouth had dropped open now, and he didn't even try to close it in a fake attempt to conceal his surprise.

"Oh, oops! Was I not supposed to say that? Maybe I caught _your_ AIDS and _I'm_ going loony too," she said with vigor.

"Well, I'd say that you have the whole loony thing very down pat," he muttered under his breath to himself. But, being Blair, she caught it.

She stomped forward, each of her words being enunciated by a sharp bang of her foot.

"What was that?" she barked, only a centimeter or two from her face.

"Nothing, Blair. Just calm down, alright?" Chuck murmured, stroking the side of her face.

"Don't you touch me! I'm carrying your _stupid_ child _inside _of me, and it is _growing_ and _this _is how you repay me?! Trying to "tap that ass" whenever possible... Maybe I should just leave. I think that's what you need. Life without me for a while. Sound good, Bass?"

"Damn, Blair, can I get a word in here?" he snapped back at her, his head whipping around as she flew around the room in a whirlwind.

"No!" she screamed back at him. Tears were falling down her face and Chuck had to hold back laughter. This was a part of the upcoming nine months that he had not been expecting.

"Okay, then, leave..." Chuck said quietly. He fled the room before the smile that was dangerously close to his lips appeared. He sat down at the bar as he heard a suitcase being slammed down on the bed.

Only ten minutes later, he heard the door of the suite slam with a "I don't know if I'll ever come back. Have a nice life, Chuck" being thrown back at him. He felt his heart wrench and held his breath to keep himself from hyperventilating.

She would be back. Whenever they had a fight, it always worked out. She would be back.

**********

Blair felt the limo come to a stop and rested her hands on her belly as the driver came around with her bags and opened the door. She stepped out, dragging a yawn from her lips.

She went into the Hilton and straight up to the front desk, cutting in front of several tourist-looking people in the process. It was like they were able to perceive her importance, though, because they didn't object at all.

It also could have been the fact that she looked very, very frazzled at that moment.

But she preferred to think that she just had an heir of superiority about her, and people were mesmerized by it. Apparently, her pregnancy was also making her incredibly conceited.

After she had gotten her key and one of the bellhops had dropped off her bags, she dropped back onto her bed. All she felt throughout her entire body was exhaustion. There was something tugging at her heart, however.

As she stared up at the dark ceiling, in the room lit only by city lights, she felt something burning in the pit of her stomach. It was like the tears were just on the brink of every part of her. There was a melancholy feeling trying to grasp at her heart. Loneliness was oozing over her soul and she hugged her knees close to her stomach.

In an effort to comfort herself, she rubbed the small child that was beginning its life inside of her womb. It gave her a strange sense of home to do this. She felt the tiniest movement; it was early, though...The doctor had told her this many weeks ago. Blair was probably imagining things in her state of fatigue.

Still she spoke to the little embryo inside of her. It made her feel more at peace; it lulled her to sleep and took the place of Chuck's caresses.

"Hey, little one...I know you won't be here for a very, very long time, but I sure can't wait," she whispered lovingly as her hands roamed on the bare skin of her stomach.

There was a small ripple in response and she smiled, hugging her knees closer to the middle of her body. It made her feel closer to the baby. She felt like she was with him or her right now, and it was like there was finally a happy family.

Because of the kicks and rubs coming from the inside of her abdomen, she was hushed into an amicable sleep. She dreamed of Chuck and a little baby with a question mark for its head. After all, pregnancy brought weird dreams as well.

The young woman had two thoughts before she fell into her tranquil sleep. The first was that she would make amends with all who she had hurt, and this included a certain male with a name starting with 'N'. She second thing that she decided was that Chuck would be forgiven. She needed him; Blair needed the father of her child to be a father and even a husband someday.

Because it wouldn't be the same with anyone else.

**A/N: **Little bit of everything in this chapter! I know that Nate's POV is dwindling rapidly. I had attempted it quite a few times after the Chair fight, but I just couldn't get it right. So, that is my ultimate goal in the next chapter: Get more Nate! I know that his story hasn't really been resolved yet, and I plan to get that cleanly finished off. I hope everyone enjoyed it!


	13. Listen

**A/N: **This took much longer than necessary...I'm so sorry! I would really appreciate a few more reviews....Please. Pretty please! You can thank Joshua Radin, a singer that Camilla recommended (you rock!) and several Chair fan videos for this update. I've known where I wanted to go with the story for a while...It was just a matter of getting it down. But here we go! Also, I'm going to be doing a couple more oneshots soon, or so I hope ;). Anyway, long author's note...But it'll be a good chapter, I promise!

Thanks to Michelle for all her help and encouragment!

P.S.: I dream every night about owning Gossip Girl, but this dream is one that never comes true :(.

_Listen_

The young woman awoke with a start and felt a wetness between her legs. She wasn't sure what was going on, but something didn't seem right at all. She pulled the elegant and lacy white comforter back from her bottom half and sat up, stretching.

When she looked out the window, she felt something spurt from between her legs and she gasped in pain.

Finally, Blair looked down at the bed where she had lain just moments ago in a peaceful slumber. There was a pool of blood that caused the sheets to sink down into the mattress. She looked down at her yellow negligee and noticed that there were brown stains that sprinkled various spots of the silk.

She listened for the screams that were sure to leave her mouth. She kept her ears open for the cries that would litter the room in mere seconds. Her hearing was prone to the desperate yells and stumbling footsteps that were going to follow very soon.

None of it came.

All she felt was one single tear slip down her cheek and a sigh blow through her thin, chapped lips. Her mid-section felt like a useless void now. She felt empty and lost. The only one who had heard her true and honest thoughts, who had shared the same experiences as her throughout the past two months or so, was gone.

Without being fully aware of her actions, Blair rose from the bed and walked to where her purse lay on the desk. She drew her cellphone from the bag and pushed the power button. All the while, she felt minuscule drips taunting her as they fell down her inner thighs. The tears had dried up now, and all that was left in her eyes was an expression of deep sorrow. It was a sadness so intense that she wasn't sure another soul could ever understand.

They answered within seconds of the first ring.

"Doctor Popper's office. How may I help you?" came Amber's cheery voice on the other line. The receptionist at her OB/GYN's office had been so great to her over the numerous weeks that had gone by. She was only about six years older than Blair and had served as a great mentor.

"Amber, it's Blair Waldorf." Tears stained her voice and she gurgled out a frantic sob unthinkingly.

"Blair, sweetheart! You sound terrible...What happened?" Concern was woven into her motherly voice and it made Blair break even further. She didn't want someone she barely knew to have to console her, she wanted _Chuck _to be the one asking her what was going on.

"I think I may have..." she breathed in deeply, trying to regain some semblance of control on her ever-wobbling voice. "Well, I believe I lost the baby." Her voice was strong for a moment, but as she continued, it became hysterical once again.

There was silence on the other end of the line. After that, there was a tiny bit of shuffling and then a click as the phone was picked up again. Then Amber spoke, "Okay, Blair? Whatever you do, I need to stay _calm_. We can't let this get any worse than it has. Get to the hospital as soon as possible. We'll take it from there when you arrive. Everything will be fine, dear."

"Really? Because I'm not so sure anymore," she sobbed out and then hung up the phone.

_I'm really not so sure..._She thought and flopped back onto the bed, tears soaking through any and every part of her body. It was like she was becoming the tears, they were becoming her. The salt water was starting to make her; it was starting to dissolve her and make her crumble.

**********

Scotch was his new best friend. Alright, so it wasn't his _new_ best friend, but throughout the last few days, their relationship has strengthened considerably. Which was more than he could say for Blair and himself.

He was sure that her coming back immediately was a given. Chuck had been wrong, though. She didn't come back. She didn't crawl into bed late last night and cuddle into his side.

Wait a second, since when did Chuck Bass _want_ her coming in to cuddle? He swirled the amber-colored fix-everything juice around as he pondered where everything changed.

Perhaps it had been when he found out he was to be a father.

No, that couldn't be it. Being a dad was honestly something he had never been prepared for, and he still hadn't particularly grasped the concept. It wasn't something he really thought was real yet. Dreams had mixed with reality, and out popped the fact that he and Blair were having a child.

After many minutes of drunken and haze-filled "thinking", Chuck gave up and fell back against the recently fluffed pillows of his bed. It was already mid-afternoon, but all he wanted was sleep. He wanted it to overtake him and never go away.

Yes, sleep sounded great right about now.

**********

Nate opened the door for Vanessa and watched as she slipped in effortlessly. It seemed that with every passing day, the young woman was becoming more and more like the girls that donned every penthouse apartment and expensive hotel room of the Upper East Side. Her actions were more demure, her manners more advanced and overall demeanor was more relaxed around everyone he knew that was part of some sort of royalty.

He hated picking apart the new woman she had morphed into, but he always found himself comparing her to other UES-ers he knew. Blair. Serena. She was nothing like them. It was like she was a hybrid breed that had been custom-made for him.

And now he was creeping himself out. He gulped and plopped down into the limo. His eyes were greeted with the sight of an upright, posture-perfect Vanessa Abrams. Her hands were folded neatly in her lap and her face held a look of contempt as she gazed at him.

"What's this about, Nate?" She asked abruptly with a cold tinge clouding her normally beautiful and harmonic voice.

They hadn't spoken in weeks. It really should not have come as a shock to Nate that she was so indifferent and stiff towards him. He'd dropped her so roughly and without a look back. He hadn't even bothered to call afterwards to check on how she was doing. The boy really didn't blame Vanessa for acting the way she did, for he deserved it.

"Miss Abrams," he cajoled, "if I didn't know any better, I'd say you were rather, well, forgive my cussing, but pissy." He was trying to make her laugh, or at the very least smile, but it was dreadfully unsuccessful.

"Look, I only have so much time before Rufus wants me at the gallery. This has to be quick," Vanessa said with a grimace that was meant to be a polite smile.

"Alright. Blair left me. I don't understand why or really even _when_, but she's gone. With Chuck, obviously. I need your help," he said. He moved his hands to where hers rested in her lap and picked them up, holding them with determination.

No one would ever know Vanessa's reaction. Not a soul would ever be able to fathom what could have been between Vanessa Abrams and Nate Archibald. It would never be imagined what a lovechild between the two would grow up to look like.

None of this would transpire because, with the scraping of car metal and a street lamp, with the smell of gasoline and smoke, and with the taste of blood in both of their mouths, came their fall. Their demise was combined with crumpled metal, crushed bones, and flashing emergency lights.

Vanessa Abrams and Nathanial Archibald would not live to see the age of twenty. They would not be alive for their 21st birthday, a landmark for so many of the Upper East Side. Social security would never be collected for the duo, nor would they be granted the blessing of seeing their grandchildren. A fiftieth birthday party would not be thrown for them; neither would have a long enough life to see great success and achievement in their respectful careers.

People would never be able to listen to Vanessa's slightly cracked voice or Nate's booming baritone any longer. All that would be thought of when trying to recall the sounds of these two once-lovers would be the sound of a screeching halt and a terrible, ear-shattering crunch.

For the possibly were-about-to-be-new couple had perished with the puckered car that was Nate's limo and a street-lamp on Fifth Avenue.

And all that could be heard were the gasps of passersby on the sidewalk, a distant car horn, and the chirping of beautifully ignorant birds.

**********

**A/N: **So, to be honest, the ending was my favorite part to write. It was so much fun to have those descriptions and it was like I was there myself. It was an exhilarating experience, hah. I'm already at work on the next chapter...But I really would appreciate some reviews for this one! :)


	14. Gravity

**A/N: **Man...my updates are so unevenly spaced! I really apologize for that. School kicks my ass on a daily basis, hence the D- I just got on a test. Grr. I've been so busy, and, yeah, excuses effing suck, I know. But, this is long, so maybe it makes up for it? Also, I know that I bug everyone for reviews every time, but I just think that 7 reviews for one chapter is a tad minimal. Maybe I have high standards, but by the end of this chapter, I plan to have a set amount for reviews to update immediately after I get that amount. Sound good? Good :)

_Thank you to Michelle; you're my major inspiration :)._

P.S.: I'm not on crack right now, so I don't own Gossip Girl.

_Gravity_

"Excuse me?" Blair said with a tired twinge of exasperation clouding her voice and soul.

"Ms. Waldorf, you were the emergency contact in Mr. Archibald's cellphone...We're calling because...well, maybe you should just come down here. We're near fifth avenue...about a block and a half away. Bright flashing lights, hon. Can't miss it." It was evident in the woman's voice that she was attempting a comforting tone, but Blair wasn't buying it. Something was seriously wrong here, and she was more worried than ever.

"I will try, ma'am. But I do have some things of my own to attend to. I assume the ambulance will be there quite a while?" She questioned, running her hand across the smooth mahogany end table of her living room and then felt a hot tear trail down her cheek.

"Maybe an hour and a half. Can't stall it much longer," she muttered.

Blair flipped her phone closed without another thought. The one important thought had just occurred to her.

She needed retail therapy. It was the solution to any woman's problem. It always solved hers. That was what she craved; it was the thirst that she didn't know needed to be quenched.

And she'd be damned if she wouldn't satisfy it instantaneously.

**********

"Chuck Bass," he answered in a dreary tone. He was under extreme exhaustion at the moment; sleep wasn't coming easily in any form at the moment, least of all from dear old scotch.

"Yes, I'm calling because someone who I am assuming is an acquaintance of yours seems to be...er...going through a rough patch, perhaps?" A hilariously gay-sounding man's voice piped over the line. You know, the type of voice that sounds like the person _wants _to be British, but no matter how hard they try, they just, well, _can't_?

"Where is she?" His voice was bored, lethargic. He drew his fingertip around the rim of his crystal scotch glass and heaved a heavy sigh.

"Bendel's on Fifth, sir." The line went dead. He'd heard something in the backround right before the dreaded dialtone, however. The screech of a Waldorf and some sort of five thousand dollar shoe clunking angrily against a table.

**********

"No! No no no! Unacceptable!" Blair screamed at full volume, not caring who heard or the various things that she was doing at that moment that were sabotaging her reputation.

"May God bring a terrible wrath down on this earth if you cannot find these shoes in a size six and three quarters!" She yelled vehemently.

"Miss, surely you know that shoes don't come in that size..." a reluctant saleslady replied with a twittering of her hand as the box fell to the floor with each tremor Blair's voice sent through her.

"It is _called_ custom _made_, you hopeless _urchin_!"Blair whacked her with a nearby scarf, earning a pathetic whine of desperation as the woman frantically paged through a phone book.

"You know what? I'll give another store my business. By the way, I wouldn't bother coming back to work tomorrow. I will rid this establishment of your horrendous employment immediately," Blair snarled, flipping her head so that her hair fell back behind her shoulders.

"Miss, please!" The woman's pleas were tuned out, though. No use. They didn't serve a purpose any longer in Blair's mind.

On to Saks...

**********

"Just what do you _mean_ when you say she _left_?" Chuck spoke slowly and made sure that he enunciated., for this woman looked feebly educated and was fidgeting nervously with each step he took closer to her.

"S-sir...She said something about taking her b-business somewhere else," the poor middle-aged woman stuttered out pathetically.

"Of course. Ms. Blair, always the impatient one...Not caring that she's making _my life_ a living hell as she wreaks havoc on her _own_," he muttered under his breath, stroking his chin thoughtfully.

"I-Um, I'm sorry sir?"

"I wasn't talking to you. Stop wasting my time. You're useless to me and I'll be leaving now. Thank you for _all_ of your help, really," he bit out sarcastically as he shoved through the door.

**********

She tore through the hangers on the rack, frantically scanning each tag for a size zero jeans. She needed these pants; they were her fucking lifeline. If she didn't get them, the world would end.

If only she were kidding.

She finally, mercifully, found the pants. Not bothering to hassle with a dressing room attendant, she threw them into the cart, piled on top of other countless couture items. A pair of panties slipped through the crack and she left it behind. However, when her heel got caught on it, she did not hesitate to throw a fit.

"Damn La Perlas! That's the last time I decide to..." the rest of her conversation-with-self was cut short by the feeling of someone's hands on the small of her back. Then the meaty hands drifted up towards her shoulders and she gasped, yanking away immediately.

Blair whirled around and came face to face with a disheveled and slightly disgruntled looking Chuck Bass.

"Damn, Waldorf. Has your shop-a-holic tornado hit every part of the Upper East Side yet, or is the only damage seen on Fifth?" He snapped, bending over to catch his breath.

Chuck's hair was mussed and the ends were sticking up, making it look like he had been pulling on it in severe frustration and anger. His eyes were wide with some sort of frantic emotion that Blair couldn't particularly put a name to in her own currently panic-streaked state.

He didn't look like he knew yet. If he had known, there would have been red rims on his eyes; evidence of the never-ending tears. There would have been the smell of scotch on his breath and his clothes would have been rumpled.

None of these things were prevalent on any part of his being. Therefore, Chuck didn't know yet. He hadn't been enlightened about the fact that his best friend was dead.

She wasn't even sure that he would care. Ever since that fight that he'd told her about, she wasn't sure that they would talk ever again. Normally, they made up. This time though, there was a noticeable difference. The fight had escalated to a point that was so finely different that she wasn't sure he and Nate were even able to detect it.

She was, though. It was easy for Blair to see that this fight had been the straw breaking the camel's back. There was more in the conflict between them; more emotion woven through each word and action of the two young men. Everything had been different.

But they never knew that. Just showed how unintelligent people of the male persuasion were.

"Get out of there, you asshole," she whispered under her breath. He hadn't heard. Apparently she hadn't spoken loud enough. She tried a more blunt and obvious approach.

"Get the hell out!" She screamed at the top of her lungs; who the hell cared if it was unlike her? She was different now; the events that had transpired had transformed her into a completely different young lady. She wasn't even sure that she was considered a young _lady_ and longer. Lady didn't seem to exactly describe her current state.

"Now, now, miss....Could you please keep it down? We prefer a pleasant, comforting atmosphere for fellow customers..." A plump lady with way too much makeup on gently chided her.

"Alright." Her voice was sickeningly sweet. "I'll just put _all _of these _expensive _clothes back. Sound good, dear?"

"M-miss," she started to protest, but realized that she had already failed at the word 'now.'

"Goodbye," Blair murmured in a biting voice, giving a small smirk on the way out.

**********

"Blair, wait-" Chuck began. He had stood there dumbfounded, and only now had he taken any action.

She strolled away from him without another glance behind her. Her emerald jacket swished behind her with each brisk step she took. He stared after her with a longing look; though he hated to admit it, even in her most out-of-character situations, he still wanted her more than the double issue of Playboy he received from an anonymous source each Christmas.

She was gone, though. Blair Waldorf was no longer Blair Waldorf. Maybe it was an out of body experience,but for some reason, there was a great deal of doubt that rose in Chuck at this momentary thought.

It was like a gravity from a different planet was pulling her away from him. She wasn't the same; because of this, _they_ couldn't be the same.

They were forever changed. If only Chuck had known it then.

**A/N: **I hope everyone knows how sorry I am that these updates aren't closer together. I know it's the most overused excuse EVER, but school is just really overwhelming right now...:P. I'm hoping that with Spring Break 2009 will come lots of writing time and update time though! :) By the way....ten reviews? Is that okay? Then, as soon as I get that magic number, I'll put up a new chapter IMMEDIATELY! Thanks guys :)


	15. Morning

**A/N: **Six reviews. Wow, I feel like such a great person right now. Alright, I'll stop with all the self-pitying crap. I just have to get over the fact that I'm not always going to get a lot of reviews. Oh well. By the way...great episode tonight, hmm? Yeah, I know, I wasn't thrilled about it either, ha. So, I know that I was really shitty in the first part of this review. I'd love to take this opportunity to thank everyone who DOES review. **Focus on the positive, Abby**...But yeah, thanks guys :). You're all the reasons that I continue to do this. You're all my motivation :)

P.S.: Though I would love, love, _love_ to tie Mr. Schwartz to a chair and write the show myself, that's not happening. So, I'll just settle for creating my own little world...The one that I owwwnnn....:P

_Morning_

She was in her own bed; her own warm comfortable -

_Wait. _That was where she currently lay, wasn't it?

Blair Waldorf shot up immediately when she didn't hear the familiar ticking of her favorite Cartier wall clock that hung on the wall of her room. Her eyes darted around the space where she was currently staying. There were purple stripes on the walls; an intricate chandelier was hanging from the ceiling.

A breath blew past her lips as she flopped back onto the newly fluffed pillows of the bed. Sadly, she knew where she was. And she had recognized it all too quickly.

The Palace. Not just any room in The Palace, either. It was one of the notorious Charles Bass suites. That was right; he'd had _suites_ named after him. That was how people in the world of the Upper East Side did things; fathers bought their sons hotel rooms rather than spending a birthday dinner singing and cutting cake. Apparently, it was a good replacement.

As Blair lay on her side, she let her eyes roam around the room. There, in the cozy chair, was a slightly perplexed-looking Chuck. His eyes were closed and brows furrowed as he was in a deep sleep.

She studied his clothing. His blue paisley tie was loosened much more than she had seen before; usually, he never allowed her to see how much his clothing mirrored his stress when he was in said condition. The top three buttons of his green shirt were undone, and she smirked to herself.

To be honest, he looked like a young, married schoolteacher who had come home to a crying baby and a screaming wife. He looked...Frazzled, upset, and concerned.

And all this while the young man was asleep.

Finally, his heavy and hooded eyelids dragged open and she stared at him blankly.

**********

It took him a few moments and blinks to adjust to the sight of an awake and not frantically shopping Blair. When he did, he had to hold back a smile, though. She looked like an innocent six-year-old who was waiting for the surprise her parents had promised her: confused and intrigued.

"Well, well; Good morning, sleeping beauty," he drawled pleasantly, wiping sleep from his eyes.

"It's snow white," she quipped, smiling politely.

"My, my...I never thought you actually enjoyed dear old Whore-gie's nickname for yourself," he said. He had since moved to the bed and sat down next to her. His fingers tucked a stray hairspray-coated strand of hair behind one of her tiny ears.

"Enough of the small talk and pleasantries, Bass," she said, slapping his coarse hand away from her cheek. He was stung, both physically and emotionally, but brushed it off with a suave smirk.

"What would you like to know?" Chuck replied, missing only about half a beat.

"What drug did you slip me when I wasn't looking? Why am I in _your _rancid, smells-of-sex hotel room? And, most importantly, what the _hell_ happened in the last twelve hours?" She scooted away from him, and Chuck felt a slight loss of warmth even though her body had been a good foot away from his.

"I didn't slip you a drug, you're in here because you came crying to _me_ last night at an un-godly hour, and, well, I'm sure that both of those statements will jog your memory, Blair," he murmured. His eyes drifted away from her and focused on a non-existent spec of dust that lingered in the air just outside the window.

**********

It was flowing in her mind now, all in disconcertingly vivid detail.

_***_

_He hadn't followed her. Why hadn't Chuck followed her? Did he not love her? Had the last many weeks been a lie? A scam to tear her life to shreds?_

_That was why she was running as if her life depended on it; she needed some answers, and she needed these answers soon. Her life was being torn apart, and he was the only one that could fix it. If he didn't want to be there for her to fix it, then it was best that she found that fact out sooner rather than later._

_During the cab ride, the driver was speechless and her tear-filled gaze was trained out the window. When the sparkling lights coming from the terrace of the Presidential Suite grazed over her vision, she shook her head to bring herself back to reality._

_She needed to stay stable. She couldn't lose it tonight; she had lost it far to often in the presence of Chuck. One more time, and he would have just enough to make her life a living hell._

_The whooshing air that surrounded her as she pushed through the revolving door was a relief; it made the redness in her cheeks from unshed tears dissolve, her hair just the right amount of messy and not too perfect._

_When the elevator pinged, signally the arrival at the infamous eighteenth floor, her plan fell apart. Blair felt the traitorous salt water start to seep through her gloves as they swept across her face in an effort to clear any unwanted pieces of unmentionables from her face._

_Three knocks and he was there, in front of her. Striped pajamas donned his body, and she didn't hear the heartbreaking sound of another woman's voice calling for him. _

_Blair reached out to him, not saying a word._

_***_

She couldn't allow herself to think of any more of what may have transpired last night. The re-living could take place later. Now, she needed to gain some composure.

Last night had been a slip. It wouldn't happen again. Her more rational side of thinking wouldn't allow it. Contrary to her always nagging belief, Chuck Bass would _not_ always be there for her. That was the definition of him; he was flimsy, not a constant thing in anyone's life. He could leave at any given moment.

Then again, that was part of the thrill of being in love with the boy. The unpredictability of venturing into any and all unknown. Each day was more different and exciting than the last. If she lived life with him, it was an exciting and adventurous life. She had to be completely truthful; without him, her life would be dismal and terribly distressing.

Perhaps that was the trade-off. He made her life worth living, and she made him love. In the end, that was what their relationship was based on. One brought out the best in the other.

What more could a person want?

**A/N: **Can I get at least five reviews? I got six last chapter....-down on knees and begging-


	16. Afternoon

**A/N: **I got seven reviews...you guys seriously have no idea how happy you make me, do you? Thanks everyone! :). I kinda had to push a bit for this to appear since I did PROMISE. We'll see what happens.

Thank you to Michelle for beta-ing. You're so totally and completely amazing.

P.S.: You have no idea how much I wish I owned Gossip Girl. Chuck/Vanessa?! Really?! So yeah, if I DID own Gossip Girl, they wouldn't be "together." In fact, "V" wouldn't EXIST :P.

_Afternoon_

Three hours later Blair sat at the bar in Chuck Bass's hotel room, drinking away her woes.

He'd left long ago and as soon as she heard the liberating click of the door closing, she'd hit the liquor cabinet.

One of her closest friends had died and she had lost a child; she'd be damned if she wasn't going to wallow a bit. In her world, wallowing no longer included ice cream and romantic comedies. The only other alternative was to immerse herself in self-pity Chuck Bass style. It was his room after all.

She twirled the stir-stick that lay unnecessarily in her martini glass. It was her fourth cosmopolitan. Normally, Blair wouldn't stoop so low as to drink this because she tended to get a tad...loopy, to put it mildly. After number two, the room had started to swirl and she was seeing pink dots all over.

While slightly entertaining, Ms. Waldorf knew that this couldn't last. Sadly, Chuck would return. There would probably be a lecture – though it was such a rarity from him – on how alcohol never fixed anything, just made things worse. Not only that, it was bad for the _baby._

She gurgled on the burning liquid that flowed down her throat as a laugh attempted to bubble from inside of her.

"The nonexistent baby," she slurred to herself, tipping slightly on the chair as she twirled around like a five year old.

"Excuse me?" a voice came from behind her, followed by the thump of a bag hitting the marble-tiled floor.

**********

He had hesitated briefly at the door before choosing to venture into what was basically unknown. He hadn't been sure what he would find, whether Blair would be gone or asleep or in the state that he was pretty sure he heard right then.

When he walked in, he saw her at the bar, twirling in what would have appeared to be – to a complete stranger – a childishly giddy manner. It would have seemed this way to a person who knew nothing about Blair; someone who was clueless to the fact that she wasn't normally so free-spirited.

Chuck knew. He knew her better than himself. And the other thing he was aware of was that the words he had just heard uttered from her lips – lips that he had surprisingly come to adore and day-dream about daily – were unbelievably devastating and troubling.

Sure he hadn't been ready to be a _father_, but he had been ready to support Blair. He'd expected that she felt the same about him and would be upfront with him, even if they were having an unjustified disagreement. Chuck never thought that she would keep something as big as this from him.

If it had been Nate, she would have been running back to him and fallen into his arms, with apologetic sobs. He wasn't Nate. He wasn't the golden boy that everyone loved. He never would be; the gene just wasn't in his pool.

Chuck was dark, cynical. Sure, no one saw this beneath his sardonic and dry humored facade. Deep down, the young man was someone who had never believed that this would last.

Somewhere within him, a little voice had been whispering, since day one, that it wasn't real. All good things came to an end, and this was no exception. _He _was no exception, nor was his life. There was someone in the universe, most likely his father from beyond the grave, that was constantly setting him up for an upsetting and unsatisfying life.

Chuck just wished that he hadn't had to drag Blair down with him.

Or maybe _she _dragged _him._ Maybe Blair was the one with a haunting that was unrelenting; a ghost that wouldn't stop it's path of destruction and sabotage. They'd never exactly talked about things like this, so it was always a possibility. It was conceivable that Blair Waldorf had an enemy, whether they be dead or alive.

He shouldn't think so selfishly. It truly hadn't been either of them. It was God's will for this baby to leave them before it was even brought into the world. They were so sinister that the big guy didn't see them fit to be parents.

The wrath that they would bring upon an innocent child...Correction, the wrath that _Chuck_ would bring. Blair was sweet and kind deep down. He knew this; he knew that her plotting and methods of annihilation and revenge were just a pleasant show for him to watch because she knew he enjoyed it.

He, though, would undoubtedly put any child that bear the same blood as him through the same hell that his own father had.

It was like a switch. As soon as the crying came and the umbilical cord was cut, he would become a cold and bitter man.

_There's a difference, Chuck,_ a voice in his head said. The voice sounded faintly like his mother, though he barely knew of her at all. He had not a clue where the voice had been summoned from; perhaps from the possibility of talks to him while in the womb. Who knew that he could remember things like that?

_You're not your father. _Now the voice was accompanied by the face that he had seen in so many pictures. The beautiful features that he had tried to memorize as a child before his father had taken the picture away.

_He was upset...Troubled; he was a scorned man who blamed the only person he knew would be affected the most._ The image was fading and Chuck felt his stomach plummet to his toes. It was like losing her all over again, and he hadn't even been there the last time. It tore at his heart, burned his soul, and cut him. The picture of his mother had opened a new wound.

He sat down. There still hadn't been any words spoken between them. Since, as of late, he had been having an inner turmoil, he had not been particularly paying attention to Blair.

How wrong that had been of him.

**********

Blair sat on a stool in the bar of the Palace. It was only five floors below the eighteenth, but she could dodge a bullet as well as anyone else – even while under inebriation.

However, her "knight in shining armor" had yet to come and "save her." God knew that Chuck was anything _but_ that; if he had been, he would have some to her the moment he found out about Nate, consoling her and healing her.

It didn't even occur to Blair that he didn't know. Nowhere in her inebriated mind was the thought that Chuck had not yet been notified of his best friend's death. Hell, Serena may not have known either.

Blair didn't think of this. She was mindful of herself and that wonderful little glass that had become her new best friend, but that was it. Nothing else, no other person, truly mattered to her at that time.

**********

He'd been stupid. Looking all around the hotel for her before finally making it back up to the bar. Chuck hadn't thought to check anywhere within a five yard radius (in any direction) of his hotel room. He had figured that when she left, she would have gone to someplace far, far away. Just so he _couldn't_ find her.

When Chuck walked into the dimly lit bar filled with quiet music, he saw her, front and center. Usually his Blair avoided the spotlight in vulgar places like bars. She would sit in a corner and wallow in self-pity or sorrow. Now, though, it appeared that she was severely drunk, otherwise she would not have been right in the middle chair of the lengthy bar.

He paused before continuing the pursuit of Blair Waldorf. It was slightly dangerous territory, especially when the upper east side princess was under the influence. Taking a concealed deep breath, Chuck ventured forward into something that was virtually unknown to him and also pretty unheard of.

"Charles Bartholomew Bass!" Blair squealed, clapping her hands together delightedly and smiling broadly, drunkenly. He gasped and grimaced when he smelled the alcohol on her breath. She leaned in and he got a better _taste_ of her breath, complete with some sloppy slobber and an abnormal moan.

Something had to be wrong with Blair. And it was deeper than the fact that they'd had a bad fight. If Chuck knew Blair though, she would make him work before she unveiled the true reason for her sudden change.

**A/N**: Please review!! Please please please! They are my air and water and shelter! (If that made sense ;])


	17. Evening

**A/N:** I believe it was seven reviews again :). We're all on a roll....Thanks everyone! I really appreciate the reviews; they make my dayyyyy. This totally took for_ever_..and I'm terrrrribly sorry :(. It's here though. That's good, riiiighhhtttttt???

Thaaannkk youuuu Michellleeeee....you're always so sweet and helpful with all my writing. I don't want to know what I would do without youuuu ;)

P.S.: If I owned Gossip Girl, it would be a continuous cycle, not separated seasons, and Chair would be suffocated with fluff. ALWAYS.

_Evening_

She had been asleep for three hours. Three excruciating hours where Chuck knew nothing; he was utterly clueless. The boy had no idea what was happening, but would sure love to be enlightened. Blair was never like this and it almost...well, scared him?

Was that fright in his heart, in his stomach? And what the _hell _was that _damn thing _invading his leg? Like vicious little roaches finding homeliness in his knee and down to his calf, the feeling creeped and crawled and just barely gnawed at the tendons of his legs. The sensation left the lower half of his body numb, but he still felt the indescribable need to run, run away from the situation and Blair.

She made him too goddamn nervous and unlike _Chuck fucking Bass._

He felt a slight shift in the air behind him and was jolted back to reality when he felt her hand accidentally brush against his shoulder. It appeared that she had been trying to discreetly remove her jacket from the back of the chair he had been sitting in, but failed, unfortunately.

"Not so fast, Ms. Flash," Chuck drawled, swiveling around in the chair and grabbing her wrist.

"What the hell, Chuck?" she asked quietly, her eyes betraying nothing but exhaustion. "Why can't you just let me go? Just this once...let me go, Chuck. You don't want me here. I'll wreck everything. I always-" She broke off, her voice thick with salty tears that clogged her windpipe.

He took his opportunity. Dove in without taking a breath for pause. For once, Chuck didn't hesitate before comforting. He didn't get that nagging tug in his gut, strangely enough. It was so different, really, to not feel any of the aforementioned emotions, because it was usually such a given for him.

He took his window for words, though. He took the opening and used it successfully.

"Blair, I want you here. I always want you here. I-" the tug was starting to pull somewhere around his ribcage and it traveled down his abdomen. _Shit. Fuck, shit, damn, shit, fuck. No, _Chuck muttered to himself in his mind. He couldn't continue. He wasn't so sure he was cut out for this, this comfort and solace. Love and admiration; sweetness and gentle caresses of the voice.

He would be...Someday. He just wasn't so sure, at the age of eighteen, that he was ready for that now. It was a certain type of maturity that he lacked. What he wasn't lacking in was the level of maturity needed to admit that one lacked maturity.

"Just let me go," she pleaded in a wimpy voice. "Chuck..." her face said it all. He could tell that she wanted to stay, but it would be to hard on her. If he really did have these intense feelings for Blair, he would let her go. She would come back. She always did.

And so Chuck turned back around in his chair. He faced the window, folded his hands into a bridge that supported his chin and listened for the click of a door closing or the ding of an elevator going down.

Neither came.

_**********_

Blair hadn't a clue why she had not bolted the moment he turned around. Whether or not he said anything in response to her pathetically melancholy pleas should not have mattered. On any other _normal_ day she would have left immediately, just to get out of the annoyingly detrimental presence that was Charles Bass.

She didn't today, though. Perhaps she was still feeling lasting effects of her recent alcohol intake, she wasn't sure. Then again, today – and this entire weekend – was shaping up to be the most abnormal of abnormal periods of time in her life.

Still, Blair Waldorf stayed rooted to the spot and watched as Chuck's breathing slowed slightly. Had he fallen asleep? She wasn't positive. The young lady wanted to shift her head to get a better look, but decided against it. The action would only cause trouble; that was the last thing she wanted right then.

Several long and excruciating moments had passed without any words. Sure, Chuck's tree didn't always go to the top branch. He may have been slightly stunted in the growth of some mental areas. However, Blair knew that he wasn't so stupid as to think that she had actually left.

She had taken to twiddling her thumbs slightly. Back and forth, back and forth. It created a soothing rhythm that made her eyes slowly droop. When she realized what was happening, though, and her eyelids shot open instantaneously.

Finally the silence was broken. It was by the accord of neither of them, of course, but it was broken, thankfully. A knock at the door signaled the arrival of a third being, and Blair nearly leaped for joy. Instead, she stayed rooted to her spot behind Chuck's chair and didn't even dare to move her eyes to follow him as he walked to the door to answer it.

"Delivery, Mr. Bass," came a deep voice from the door. She moved her head ever so slightly and quickly darted her eyes to see who it was. _Just the bellhop, _she told herself. She moved her head back to face his desk and adjusted it slightly when she realized that it was just barely out of position.

He came back quickly, setting the tiny box down on his desk and turning around to face in her direction. His hands were flat against the desk as he leaned back on it gently. They shifted to his torso, where they folded over his chest, making it look puffed out and marginally bigger than it should have been.

"You didn't leave," he said quietly. "Why?"

She didn't answer.

"Let's try another question. You've been drinking. Why?" He unfolded his arms and began to pace in an accusatory manner.

Still no response from Blair. Her throat was closed up and she was experiencing cotton mouth at the worst possible moment. She tried putting her tongue out inside of her mouth and biting down, but no saliva was drawn to help her predicament.

Blair wanted to respond. She was nervous, though; frightened of the fight that was brewing in the sticky and humid air of the small office. Her mouth wouldn't work; her mind would not allow her to speak and she was mentally kicking herself in the ass for each word – each sentence – that she missed.

"Maybe this one will be important enough for a response. Why did you _lose _our _child_?" Chuck snarled. _Bang._ He had since reached the desk and his fist struck against it with a force that Blair had never thought possible from him.

This set her off. It caused the spit to return back to the glands in her mouth and increased her ability to form words and develop a voice to communicate.

"I'm sorry, Chuck," she spat with insincerity trickling down from every letter of every word. "I had _so much_ control over the fact that the baby died _inside of me. _You stupid asshole!"

"Please. If you wouldn't have been pissed at every little thing I said, we never would have gotten into this mess, Blair!" He had sat down in his chair now and was rubbing the sides of his forehead, where she noticed his veins prevailing slowly.

"This is _not_ my fault, Chuck Bass. And if you think that it is, then you really weren't ready to be a father. These things happen, especially with women my age. But, you are as dumb as-" She stopped, cutting herself off.

"Go ahead, say it. Can't do anymore damage than has already been done," he said quietly, looking up at her with blank eyes now.

"No. I won't say it. In fact, you know what? It's not even worth it anymore. The fights, the bickering, none of it is worth it, Chuck. The little _thing_ that just _died_ in my womb was the last thread that strung us together. That had better be clear to you," Blair said, hissing on the last sentence and shooting him the fiercest glare she could manage.

She could tell that her words cut him. He was trying his hardest to conceal that, but she knew him. Knew his looks, how to search his eyes for the real emotion he was feeling at each and every moment. It was like she heard the shatter that must have gone on inside of his head. The terrifying break of something deep within him. As always, Chuck tried to hide that with biting comebacks and sneeringly lewd comments.

Blair knew better. She was well aware that she'd struck a nerve with each word she growled out. With each new fierce and sharp phrase, she was driving the sharp dagger deeper into him. The funny thing was, it felt good. Like a catharsis for all the atrocious things she had gone through over the past day and a half. The young lady was glad that she had hurt Chuck.

"Oh, it's crystal clear, believe me," he whispered through his teeth.

**********

He watched as she stalked out of his suite without another word. His eyes were squinted, his breathing shallow with the feeling of fight still in him. His heart was pounding, and he was able to feel the beat of his pulse pounding through his wrists.

"By the way, Chuck. Nate died Saturday evening. Car crash with Vanessa. Just figured you'd like to know," Blair called over her shoulder.

Before he had time to retaliate, the slam of his suite door was heard, signaling her exit.

**A/N:** I've officially started the next chapter as well. I know you love me...Or at least I hope so? Maybe? You can all thank a seven and a half hour car ride for the majority of this chapter. It kept me busy on a gloomy day of driving. I think it turned out pretty well. But, then again, you're all my toughest critics. So, tell me what you think? Also, I apologize for it taking so long. I hope that doesn't cause reviews to go down :P.


	18. Out

**A/N:** So I got six reviews last chapter. Thanks to those who did review. You guys are awesome and I totally appreciate it! I know that my updates are so very unevenly spaced, but I am an unevenly spaced person with an unevenly spaced life. Now that I've used that word several times...I think this little author's note is complete.

This is unbeta'd, so any and all mistakes you will find are totally my fault and I take the fall for 'em.

P.S.: I do not own Gossip Girl or any of its characters or places, saddddly.

_Out_

He fell back down into his desk chair. Surely she was kidding. She had to have been kidding. No one, not even the venomous Blair Waldorf, would just throw that on someone that they had once claimed to love.

It was a sick joke; but then again, when were any of the pranks and jokes one played on the other friendly and carefree? There was always a small price to pay. That was part of the lifelong game that they played to keep their 'relationship' alive and thriving.

This, though, this was a cruel move. A malicious jump that put Blair ahead and he behind. She knew that he would fall, that he very possibly wouldn't recover from this. She knew and she used it to her greatest advantage.

What she did was manipulative, it was brutal, it was unrelenting and the highest level of bitchiness that was reachable. Hell, if she hadn't have done it to him, he would have been damn proud of her. It was Blair Waldorf in her finest form.

Chuck let out a sigh of fatigue and lay his head back against the soft leather of his mahogany desk chair. The boy needed some serious relaxation right then. He swore he might blow up – literally – sometime soon.

Then it dawned on him. With everything that had been happening as of late, he hadn't bothered to call Nate after that punch he threw. On Saturday evening, he'd dialed the first four numbers of his former friend's phone number, but then hung up the phone and thrown it against the wall in a flare up of frustration.

He'd had one missed call on his phone. Right before he had been so abusive towards it, he'd seen that. Assuming that it was from a useless colleague – or even more useless at that time, Blair – he had simply ignored it and moved on to his further self-destruction techniques.

The phone call must have been about Nate. What a stupid bastard he had been to just assume that it was something unimportant and uninteresting. It had been _important _and very fucking _interesting._

"Aaaarrghhh!" he yelled, slamming his head against the corner of his desk. He had meant for it to rap on the flat part, but he'd never been very athletic. Therefore, his aim was terrible. Blood trickled down from his hairline, but he just kept pounding until he no longer felt a thing.

He didn't want to feel the excruciation that his skull was being put through. He didn't want to feel the agony of losing a best friend. He didn't want to feel the guilt of not being a better person.

Chuck wanted to be unfeeling, but that was nothing new. Not to him at least. Because of this, his head-pounding was normal. Expected, even. It wasn't out of the ordinary, because when he was caused any sort of pain that resulted from something essentially done from him, he only inflicted more suffering and misery upon his being.

He heard the faintest sound of a click as some door that must have been far, far away opened and closed quickly. He felt an angelic touch on his forehead and blinked his tear-filled eyes closed, thinking that the equivalent of an angel had come to beckon him to Hell, his true home.

What seemed like only milliseconds later, he heard the distant shrieks of an ambulance siren. He assumed it was coming to carry his dead corpse away, for he was now a ghost that was on the highway to Hell.

There was no saving him now. He would be with his father in Hell. Who knew, maybe the entire Bass clan was there. A nice little family reunion...

_**********_

She had stayed right outside his door, expecting an angry Chuck to follow her, grabbing her arms and bruising them as he scorned her – burned her – with his sadistically sharp and ferocious words.

When it became apparent that he had not – in fact – followed her, her body slumped against the beige colored wall just outside of his hotel room. For a few fleeting minutes, she shifted so her legs were drawn to her chest. Blair began to unconsciously rock back and forth.

And that was when she heard the incessant pounding that came from behind the closed door. It was not locked, so she opened it, curious and feeling exploratory.

Perhaps he was trying to distract himself from the painfully obvious facts. Maybe Chuck was nailing a picture of Nate to the wall so as never to forget the poor boy. Or maybe...

Or maybe he was beating his fucking _head _against a fifty thousand dollar desk! Blair gasped and gaped as she heard the unceasing throbbing of his skull slamming against the glazed wood of his desk.

She did not bother to utter a single word as she walked over to his seemingly possessed body. Her hand found its way to his forehead, which had a continuous stream of blood trickling down it. She dabbed gently at it and watched as a clear liquid melded into his blood.

_Crying? Really, Blair? About the man you said meant nothing to you?_

She ignored the small, mocking voice that was present in the back of her mind and picked up his head, trying to look into his eyes. They were closed, however, and she was sure that if they'd been open all she would have seen was a vacant stare. Not even confusion; just a dumb expression from the torture he was putting his mind through.

She lay him, by the neck, gently down on the desk and went to go find a phone.

The sky outside was pitch black, partly because of the late hour and partly because of the thunderous rumbling that signaled a coming thunderstorm. The trees rustled eerily against the window in Chuck's suite and Blair nearly jumped out of her skin when she heard a crack from somewhere nearby. A crash was able to be recognized as a large tree branch fell to the ground.

Taking a deep breath that practically scraped the inside of her lungs, she grabbed the phone and dialed nine-one-one. While the other end of the line gave her three rings in reply, she tapped her fingers impatiently on the cherry wood desk and let out a sigh.

"Nine one one, what is your emergency?"

"Yes, I am in room eighteen twelve at the Palace. I need someone to come straight away. My...A man...He's hurt his head and he's bleeding terribly." Blair's eyes swam and she glanced over at Chuck. He was still laying there, but now his eyes were shut and his head lolled to the side slightly as quiet nothings were said under his breath.

"Alright, ma'am. We're sort of backed..."

"What's it gonna take, lady?" Blair screeched. Her eyes instantly drifted to Chuck to make sure that he had not risen from his slumber because of her. No, he was still asleep. She even checked to make sure his chest was still heaving up and down, just because she was so paranoid.

"Ma'am..." she started.

"Get. An. Ambulance. Here. _Now_," she bit out with venomous liquid trickling from his every word. "Or you will _not _have a job tomorrow."

The woman's words ran together with nervousness as she replied quickly, "Yes'm," and hung up abruptly.

Surely the ambulances had been speeding because only five minutes later she heard sirens right outside the Palace building. Blair stood up immediately and went to the door to await their imminent arrival.

She did not bother to greet the men with stretchers as they waddled in. Mere seconds later, they were striding out – somewhat unsuccessfully – with an unconscious Chuck Bass. Her eyes followed them out the door and as far down the steps as she was able to see. After that, she watched as they loaded him into the back of the ambulance.

It would be too much drama for her to ride in the emergency vehicle with him. He could wake up and...well, she knew what would happen, and it would not be pretty at all. Blair wouldn't be able to handle it, and chances were neither would Chuck depending on the retorts she gave.

Forty five minutes later, she sat in a comfortable chair that was set up in his hospital room. He hadn't come in yet, but the nurse at the station had told her that she could wait in there if she pleased. She sat back in the chair and then leaned forward. The more she alternated positions, the more nervous she became about his current condition.

It seemed like ages and ages before Chuck finally re-entered her line of vision, this time in a whirring hospital-issue bed blur that was wheeled next to the permanent one in his room. He was transferred by way of lifting over to the bed with a few grunts coming from the people picking him up.

"Is he alright?" she asked worriedly. _Dammit Blair,_ she chastised herself. _You. Don't. Care._ She didn't; she _commanded _herself not to care. He didn't matter. Chuck was just a helpless little plebe that she had been flung upon in order to help society become a better place.

"Fine," mumbled one of the transporters. Somehow, she wasn't convinced. Perhaps it was the fact that none of these people had either a stethoscope or a white lab coat in a ten-foot radius of them. And they smelled absolutely _rancid._ Her nose wrinkled as she thought that final bit.

Blair walked over to Chuck right after the men left. She stroked his hair contentedly for a few moments, listening to the lulling sounds of his steady and shallow breathing. All she knew how to do at that moment was thank God. Chuck was alive. She didn't care that her facade was faltering and she was no longer the same Chuck-hating Blair. She was sick and tired of lying to herself as well as others. She still felt enough for him that she cared. A part of her always would feel a pang of something indescribable whenever he was in danger or hurt.

It surprised her immensely when his eyes shot open. She abruptly withdrew her hand from his body and leaped back slightly in defeat and a very little bit of fright. His eyes were unfocused at first, but then they zoomed in on her and what she saw shook her to the innermost depths of her body – so far inside of her, that she never even knew they existed.

He didn't waste any time, that was for sure. His biting remark hurt more than normal and she felt tears burn the rims of her eyes as the acidic words left his mouth.

"Get out," he spat with disgust. What she didn't realize at that time was that there was nervousness and regret lacing his features and voice. She didn't pay enough attention, though. All she knew was that the words were hurtful and the way they were said to her even more destructive and detrimental.

So Blair left.

**A/N:** Strangely, I'm in a fluff mood...I just had to finish this off, so I did. It's a cliffy, just 'cause I'm mean ;). I promise fluff in the next chapter. Oh yeah, review please ;).


	19. In

_**A/N:**_ Yeah, okay, so this is late. I'm sorry guys. Episode was depressing last night, hmm? Yeah, I know :P

**Special thanks to….**_Michelle_ for betaing :). (like my font formatting there?)

P.S.: I do not own Gossip Girl. But I think I get closer to it everyday that my homicidal thoughts toward Josh-y boy become more thought out and developed ;).

_In_

She walked out using the revolving doors of the hospital. The smell of smoke hit her immediately as she noticed a green-scrubs-clad male nurse turn and look at her when she came out. She turned the other way, away from the atrocious cloud of gray fog.

Blair knew where she needed to go. But she also knew where she _wanted_ to go, and those places were most definitely not the same.

The first place was safe and welcoming and held a comfort for her. This place housed the angel that sat on her right shoulder. It was complete with a white glow and puffy clouds.

And then there was the second place. The second place was hell, to put it simply. It held terrible and mocking memories that screamed at her the moment she stepped in. The devil from her left shoulder resided there and it had fire spitting out from under the door. There was red all around and an unreal heat exuded the terrible place.

Of course, being the masochistic girl she was, Blair chose the second place. She picked the option that would bring her the most pain and guilt and worry. This place would make her feel more upset and be incredibly detrimental to her being. It was _unhealthy_. It was _filthy._

It was suite eighteen twelve at the New York Palace Hotel.

_**********_

Chuck jolted awake after another one of his terrible, no good, very bad nightmares. They had been reoccurring without his permission and also at the strangest of times.

He didn't care to think of them any longer, because the more they crowded his mind, the more likely it was that the bastards would return the next time he fell under.

Staring out the window, he watched as a painfully naïve and oblivious bird chirped cheerily while soaring into a tall palm tree. He thought it strange that palm trees were tall enough to get to the eighteenth floor of the hospital (he had requested the eighteenth floor for obvious reasons). But then again, the people in this hospital were paid – mostly by him – to tailor fit every single person's whim and desire.

He pressed the buzzer on the arm of his bed and barked out an order at the nurse for the finest scotch they had. He knew that they kept scotch; they made sure it was always there, locked in a cupboard, especially for Chuck Bass.

Once the comforting glass was in his hand, he felt at peace. All unwarranted thoughts of Blair – though he would never admit that he was having any – were long gone from his mind. They swirled down the toilet with the remnants of food that left his body after the liquor "cleansed" him.

Chuck dialed the number – which he had had memorized since the age of fourteen – he knew so well by heart on his cellphone and listened to the rhythmic rings. He ordered for Trixie – a busty beauty who never, _ever _failed – and in response was told it would be a matter of minutes until she arrived.

Of course he was breaking hospital policy. He had more money than most of these people had probably seen on their black-and-white-because-they're-so-goddamn-poor television sets. He could bend the rules any fucking way he wanted to.

Simply because he was Chuck Bass.

_**********_

When Blair arrived in the musty smelling hotel room she went straight for the desk, where _it_ lay. There were specks of blood – splattered every which way – on the desk and she grimaced as her eyes met with the same specks on that alluring object that was just within her reach.

_The box._

Truth be told, when the package was delivered, it was mind over matter for her. She didn't really care about what was inside. But it was the fact that he didn't open it in front of her that had Blair curious. He has just set it on that blasted desk without another glance. It bothered her. As if that Basstard couldn't trust her to see a possession of his.

_Childish imbecile with no morals..._she began the routine rant in her head, before she chastised herself. She was right there; he _wasn't._ Chuck was not in the room to snatch away the heavy thing and keep it locked up, away from her. She could let loose, allow herself to snoop and pry and find things out that she wasn't supposed to.

First, she examined the outside of the box. After all, a thorough investigator always checked each and every crack and crevice outside before delving into the actual treasure. Or evidence.

A few dents here, just a normal run-of-the-mill address label on the front of the box. Addressed to...Wait a minute, that wasn't a _Chuck_ Bass, it was a _Bart Bass_. There was the money, right there. She patted herself on the back for giving a thorough examination at first. Now at least she knew that it wasn't even meant for him.

Now to open the box - which now seemingly glowed with mystery and intrigue. She had to be discreet. If there was anything she had learned in her nearly decades of scheming and undercover "detective work" it was that you couldn't leave any trace of yourself behind. Blair needed to be careful; more careful than Jenny Humphrey _trying on_ Marc Jacob shoes at Bloomingdale's.

She breathed in as calmly as work commenced. A little fold here, a microscopic tear there. Within seconds of her careful and quick handiwork, the top of the box was opened, without any sign of the breaking and entering that had taken place.

The sight that was beneath the papery brown cover was simply tissue paper. But the tissue paper...It smelled of importance and elegance. She wasn't sure why, but Blair felt that she just had to go on. Normally, she would have stopped after opening the top, afraid of pushing her luck. Today, though, she felt that the venture needed to go farther.

Using her meticulously manicured nails, she picked and prodded at the tissue paper. It was delicate and fragile, like a small porcelain child, and could not be tampered with. She needed to treat it with the utmost care; a Waldorf was most definitely capable of that.

After what seemed like an eternity of tedious unwrapping and re-wrapping – just to make sure it didn't look suspicious or conspicuous – she uncovered what was beneath. A small box was beneath, and it was so nondescript and untelling that she almost screamed.

"You have got to be kidding me," she whispered to herself. _Only Chuck Bass,_ she finished in her mind.

She was tempted to stop here, or at least obtain some rubber gloves before continuing. However, she was Blair Waldorf. She always finished what she started, even if it said danger all over it.

Half an hour later, she was staring at the contents of the box.

It made no sense. None. He was Chuck Bass, he didn't need a box to deliver this. The boy – correction, he was obviously a _man_ since he had this – had connections.

What baffled Blair more than anything, though, was that it had been addressed to _Bart._ Why him? A dead man? Were those people too stupid and behind the times that they didn't realize that this man was dead?

So many questions that were unanswered. And as the crystal meth jiggled in the bag that sat - relatively stationary - in her hand, they seared her skin and burned her mind. The inquiries would have to wait, but not too long.

She was going to the hospital. She was getting some fucking answers. And she was going to do it nicely for once, without vicious interrogations and empty threats that rarely got carried through when it came to him.

Because Blair Waldorf _did_ love Chuck Bass.

**A/N:** So now you know what is in the damned box ;). I hope everyone liked. I updated!! And my homework is neglected. Whatever, who really cares anyway? Haha Well, I know this is a semi-cliffy, so I will get a new chapter up within the next few days. Like, possibly tonight. I swear :)


	20. The End of the Beginning

**A/N:** Last chapter, everyone. I plan on waiting a while to actually post a sequel, and letting this one go out with a resounding bang. (Don't worry, it will be a good one, I swear).

My utmost gratitude goes to Michelle, who encouraged and motivated me throughout this entire story. She also fixed my many mistakes ;). You are amazing and I hope that you will continue to beta for me for any future adventures in the fanfiction realm. Hah...Don't worry, I'm not getting teary eyed...:P

P.S.: I do not own Gossip Girl or any characters.

_The End of the Beginning_

_What are you doing here?_ It was the first thought that came to his mind, but he didn't have the balls to voice it. He was scared; being in the hospital...Blair being there....he felt like a shameless coward who didn't deserve her. He never had, least of all now.

"Chuck," she stated numbly. He stared up at her with the caramel eyes that had belonged to his mother once upon a time. She looked ravishing, even with her straying curls and naked lips. No matter what look Blair Waldorf donned, she always looked delicious and appealing to him.

His eyes moved back down to where his thumbs were twittling and sighed as he stared at them. _Over, then back, all around_, he thought to himself. Focusing on something so mundane and unimportant helped him to ignore his surroundings. It aided him in the process of completely blocking out anything in his life that involved Blair.

And then she was sitting by him. That was a little harder for Chuck to ignore. Her hands pried his away from one another. The warm soft feeling of her own hand grasping his spread throughout his entire body and gave him pleasant chills. Finally, Chuck forced himself to meet her eyes and not look away. Only pansies looked away.

Chuck Bass was anything but a goddamn pansy.

"I missed you," she murmured. His hand was drawn up near her lips and her silky lips brushed against the hairy top of it. When she set their entwined hands back down on the stiff, cottony bedspread, the pad of her thumb tickled each small freckle on his skin.

The pleasant chills turned to chills of dread. She never bothered to worry his hands this much; when Blair preoccupied herself with something, it usually meant a difficult subject was being detoured. Now he was curious, but the curiosity had an accompaniment, trepidation.

_**********_

She wasn't sure she could accomplish what she had come here to do. He looked so vulnerable and scared. Hell, he hadn't even really had the time to fully process what had happened to Nate before he...did what he did.

"Um..." she began cautiously. Should she mention the funeral information that she had skimmed over in the _Times_ this morning as she ate breakfast? She wasn't sure if he was fully ready to grasp that concept that Nate wouldn't be around anymore. He always had trouble dealing with this things, and therefore, she did, by extension.

"Why did you come here, Blair?" She hadn't expected him to talk. Blair had thought she would be the one to do most of the talking, but this – this threw her a curve-ball. It was unpredictable and unexplainable. She had figured that he would never want to speak to her again, what with the terrible things that had been said.

Chuck had found his voice though; perhaps he wasn't a coward as many seemed to believe far too easily. It was strong and healthy sounding, despite the current position he lay in – both figuratively and literally.

Before Blair was aware of what she was doing, everything in her mind spilled from her lips in a nervously teetering voice.

"I read about the funeral arrangements and it's on Saturday. You look better – though I'm really not sure you should. You just hurt yourself for Christ's sake! - so I was thinking maybe it would be good if we went...But then again, I understand if you don't want to see Nate like that. Things were rough between you guys....My fault. And what the hell was with that coke addressed to your dad?!" She added the last bit on as a three second afterthought when she had caught her breath.

Confusion was visible all over his face, perplexity and shock written and carved into each small and juvenile wrinkle on his forehead.

_*********_

"What the _hell_, Blair? You know, I was put into this god forsaken place for a fucking _head injury_. Speak normally, slowly, got it?" Chuck snapped rather angrily. He hadn't meant for it to come out so biting and snippy, but biting and snippy it had come out.

She withdrew into an invisible shell and a small part of him instantly wanted to reach out and stroke her lovingly.

He knew that he couldn't. It was too soon, for both of them. A line had been crossed when Blair did what she did, and he knew that this fact was palpable from both sides, not just his. The little touches they used to share would no longer be the same. Included in them would be flashbacks of an unhappier time that they had shared.

"I-I'm sorry," she said. Somehow, Chuck understood that those two small, stuttered words encompassed everything that needed to be apologized for. He knew that those little syllables emphasized her regret for her wrong-doings and captured each and every thought that was in her mind without her having to add another word.

That was why he returned the favor and said those exact words back to her – because he was sorry. For everything.

"I'm sorry," he replied. There were no touches, no kisses, no hugs. Just the raw emotion that was tethering them together, that kept their hearts bound to one another.

He didn't know what was happening. To any other person, it would have felt like the two were drifting apart, they were beginning to fray and break. But to him (and, he hoped, to her) it felt like the bond – the love, though neither had professed it out loud - they shared was getting stronger each second longer that his caramel eyes held her chocolate ones.

_*********_

_What is he thinking? Does he hate me? Will we ever be the same again. Stop thinking, Waldorf! Just do something! Say something....anything._

The internal battle Blair was having with herself had gone on long enough. She was not weak, she was _not_ afraid of Chuck Bass. Blair knew him, right down to his core.

She knew that when he wore purple, it was a telltale sign of his playfulness. When he wore pink, it told that he was horny. Green was a bad day, and blue was sadness.

Not only did she have his wardrobe down pat, she also had his every like and dislike memorized, each dimple and imperfection (perfection) of his body. The way each hair on his head bent, the salmon – almost peach – color of his fingernails. She knew everything about him, and he was the same with her.

They completed one another.

Because of that, she would force him to go. Deep down, she knew that he wanted to go. He hadn't discovered just how capable he was of facing the difficult things in life. She knew he had the potential to be great; that Chuck had it within his heart and soul and being to be strong and willing and a good example for others.

He could mourn; it was what everyone else would do. For better or for worse, he had been Nate's best friend; people expected him to weep, even if it was slightly forced because of residual anger from the happenings of the last few weeks – hadn't it been nearly a month? Two?

Several minutes had passed. Or at least that was what Blair figured. As she looked out the window, she realized the sky had darkened and shadows were cast on the lower roofing of the hospital building. As her eyes shifted over to where Chuck lay – she had heard steady breathing and was curious - she realized he had fallen asleep.

Questions would wait until morning. Now, she would be with him. She would be part of him and heal him. That was all Chuck didn't want, but knew he needed.

And that was why Blair was there.

_**********_

He had been watching her for God knew how long. He glanced over at the analog clock on top of the entertainment center that housed the television and read the time: _1:30_. As he looked back over at her, he noticed that her head had shifted and was nestled in a small crook of his knee. It was the perfect fit for her head, he realized. Of all the places in his body to fit her perfectly...

A sigh of contentment puffed from her pale – almost illuminated in the darkness – lips and he stuck his thumb out, daring to break the invisible and unseen treaty made between the two of them. He touched her, brushing the dry tip of his thumb across the ethereal perfection of her bottom lip. Resisting the urge to poke it in and swirl it around in her mouth – surely that would wake Blair up – he withdrew his hand.

Instead, Chuck laced the thumb so that it fit in the crevice between her own thumb and index finger, and all of his other fingers fit naturally.

He knew that she would poke and prod him in the morning about that damn funeral. He was prepared though. No one ever went against the suggestions – more like orders – of Blair Waldorf.

_**********_

_**One week later...**_

"Come here, Chuck. Your tie is all crooked." Blair was acutely aware of how wifely – hell, she'd even say motherly – her tone of voice was. He grumbled something under his breath before stumbling over to her.

She could read his thoughts, for his face was easy to read. He obviously didn't see the need – being a young adult who particularly liked sleep – to be awake at 7:30 in the morning for a wake that was at 10:00. Blair had a surprise in store for him, though.

"Watch it," he breathed as her fingernail grazed the well-known sensitive spot on his neck. He hissed as she found it again and drew the smooth skin on the tip of her middle finger across it, the sides of her lips drawing up in amusement and pleasure.

Funny how that wasn't the surprise she had been planning, yet it just added to the fun of the day ahead of them.

_**********_

An hour and a half later, they sat in the limo. The site of the funeral and burial was a solid forty-five minutes away from the Palace, where they had both gotten ready that morning.

As they rode along, both Chuck and Blair stared pensively out the window. With each passing second came another wave of nausea for Chuck.

He didn't deserve to be at this funeral. Nathanial hated him; he thought of him as scum. Chuck was quite sure of the fact that – had Nate lived a longer and perhaps more prosperous life – he would not have been invited to the wedding of his old friend, nor would he have received an invite to the christening of each little Archibald. No, he would not have been 'crazy Uncle Chuck.'

He was positive that had Nate been alive, Chuck would have been continuously exiled from everyone involving his family for the rest of eternity.

But maybe he would have been okay with that. Who the fuck was he kidding? If it meant that he could stay with Blair and – and love her, then he was as okay as could goddamn be with being excluded from Nate's life.

When the limo pulled to an almost-screeching stop, Chuck jolted immediately. He was unaware of the reverie he had been in. One look at Blair, and it seemed that she had dozed. Her hair was mussed – in a sexy way, of course. Anything was sexy on her (god, when had he become so whipped?) - and her makeup showed the slightest of imperfections, but only he noticed, simply because he was Chuck Bass. One millistep away from gay.

**********

When they entered the funeral home, Blair was studying Chuck's face carefully, looking for any signs of the Chuck Bass that she was all-too-prepared to deal with. He was frozen, his face emotionless. His eyes were blank, his mouth slightly ajar.

"You okay?" she mumbled, stroking his arm.

_**********_

There it was again, the breeching of that silent agreement; only this time, he had not been the one to break it. It was Blair during this instance, Blair who touched him, who stroked him with consoling intentions and soft words that cut into him – but in a good way.

Here it was, the ultimate choice. Whether to be truthful, or keep up that facade that he was always incredibly reluctant to let go of. Somehow, he was painfully aware of the fact that she would know. And worse than the knowing of that fact was that Blair would know and not say a thing about it – she would play along and walk right into his little game. Just because she thought it would make him better.

It wouldn't. And neither would lying to her.

"I don't know if I can do this," he said, his voice breaking as tears gurgled from his eyes to his nose to his throat. Swallowing, he looked down at her. As always, and obediently, her eyes were there for him. Consoling emotion rested within the dark irises and pitch black pupils.

"You can, Chuck. I know you can."

Before he knew it, they had reached the cherry wood casket. He was afraid to take her eyes off of her. He knew what awaited his line of vision, and he really wasn't sure that he was prepared for it. She nodded at him, and looked away.

Chuck continued to stare out at the blossoming lilac tree that was outside. He heard the distant and faint sounds of birds' melodic songs and even those seemed to be egging him on.

He was ready now.

With a deep breath, Chuck Bass looked into Nate Archibald's casket. His eyes traveled the length of his best friend's body, from the tip of the toe of his shiny black shoe to the top of the tiny tuft of hair that always stuck up, no matter how much anyone tried to mat it down.

To his incredible surprise, he smiled. Memories washed over him, flooded his mind, and he let go. He vanished into the happy times he and Nate had had together.

That was the important thing, to remember all the good times. All the goofing off and every little quirk of the friendship that existed between Nate and Chuck.

Every bad thing – that could be set free. Blown away and buried underground, far far away from Nate's burial place. It would not bother Nate or Chuck ever again.

All that remained would be the bright spot that Nate had been in the murky waters of Chuck's life.

And now Blair was there to replace the lightbulb that had burnt out.

**A/N: **I am pretty sure that I'm happy with this ending. More information will come about a sequel and I am also seriously considering an epilogue to this story. I think it just makes more sense, but I always appreciate reviewer input. So...sequel? Epilogue? Both? Thank you again – so much – to everyone for reading this and continuing to give me the boost of confidence and encouragement needed to write. You are all my inspiration.


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